Tertiary
by Acepilot6
Summary: Chapter 15 - the final chapter - now up. Lor goes home to Bahia Bay while coming to terms with her relationship with Phil...after all, if you love something, let it go... Please read, review and enjoy the very belated ending!
1. Prologue

**Before I begin – a huge thanks to LordMalachite, who has beta read this fic and kept it on track. I couldn't have done it without you.**

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

Author's Notes: This fic is a crossover between my two favourite cartoons – The Weekenders and All Grown Up. It is the first time I have ever written a crossover and the first time I have dealt with most of the Weekenders characters in a fanfic (apart from a brief, aborted and never published Tino/Tish fic last year).

For those of you coming at this from the Weekenders fandom, you've probably never heard of me and therefore my style of writing may be a touch confusing. I write in first-person present tense, which is a little unusual, but hopefully you'll get it in no time. I hope you enjoy the fic.

For those of you who've read my All Grown Up fics, I just really hope you find this new element intriguing.

Please review!

8---8

I look at myself in the mirror and resist the temptation to run a hand through my hair - it took ages to get it to lie flat, and I don't want to mess it up. Not today.

Today. My wedding day.

The day that I get married. The day that I commit myself to the rest of my life with him.

I, Lor McQuarrie, am getting married.

It's a slightly unsettling thought, on some levels. I kind of assumed that I'd never end up getting married. Living in sin, maybe, but not _married_. It just seemed so...restrictive, for someone like me who'd always prided herself on being a free spirit.

But now that I'm here, actually doing it, I can't think of a reason not to. I can't think of a reason to have ever thought it was a bad thing.

Maybe I'm growing as a person.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I told myself that I would tell him, today, before we all went our seperate ways. Before he goes to Oakland, and I go to Los Angeles. Before we step out of each other's lives, I want to make sure that I'll always have a place in his.

I want to tell Tino Tonitini that I'm in love with him.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

I chant it like a near-silent mantra, only hoping that when I come face to face with Tino it will just slip out so easily. I've never felt so nervous about talking to anyone before. In fact - $10,000 dollar basket opportunity included - I don't think I've ever felt so nervous before in my life, period.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

I pace up and down in front of the pizza joint, the locale of our impending "good-bye Bahia Bay" party. As Tish prepares to jet her way east, Carver goes to Northwestern and Tino and I traverse California, we've decided to have one last meal together in our home town, not knowing when we'll all be back again.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

The proprietor has actually done up the place quite nicely, with this weeks theme being "goodbye valued customers". Apparently, he's worried that without us to eat his merchandise his business is going to go belly up.

"I love you."

After we've eaten, as we're walking home, having already left Tish and Carver far behind us, I finally decided the time is right. I finally decide that the years of procrastinating have to end here and now, and that I have to tell him before it really is too late.

"Hey, Tino," I say, mentally kicking myself at how cliched this is already sounding, "I kind of had something I needed to tell you."

Now, if I was him, then alarm bells would already be ringing in my head. I mean, come on - I kind of had something I needed to tell you? He must know that I'm either going to confess eternal love or a rare and deadly disease.

He turns to face me, pausing in our walk home. Despite my telegraphed admission, his features are, nevertheless, lit up in his usual, easy-going smile. "Yeah, Lor?"

And there it is. I realise, somewhere fleetingly in the back of my mind, that I will never again have such a wonderful opportunity to tell him. The moonlight, the starry evening sky, the mood of the moment - it's all perfect.

"I..."

And yet...

"I'm really gonna miss you," I trail out. Some part of my mind is probably now wailing on my courage in a furious rage.

"I'm gonna miss you too, Lor," he tells me, looking a bit confused but still smiling. He grabs my hand and gives it a quick, friendly squeeze, and then we continue walking. I trail behind him just slightly, probably a bright red colour in the face and absolutely fuming with myself.

I let the opportunity go by. I had the chance to tell Tino that I'm in love with him, that I want to try and be more than friends...and I wussed out at the last minute.

But at least I've admitted it to myself. That's something.

Alright, so it's nothing, really, but at least it's a nothing that will make me feel a little better about myself.

Another opportunity will present itself. I'll get another, somewhere down the line.

8 - * - * - * - 8

_The symbol above, by the way, is a transition between timeframes of Lor's wedding and Lor's college days. It will appear often._

_Please review!_


	2. Making Friends and Injuring People

**Phil's backstory will appear in a succession of fics published in the Rugrats/AGU archive on ff dot net and at Luke's. The first is entitled "The Dawn" and is already out. If you enjoy Tertiary, please read it too!**

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

Author's Note – Alright, now the story starts properly. This chapter begins at the wedding, but keep in mind that the two rows of dashes with a row of dots in between mean a switch between the two times the story is set in. Please enjoy and review!

_8---8_

A knock at the door shakes me out of my memories. "Come in," I call.

Phil DeVille's grinning head pops around the doorjamb. "Just wanted to know if I could come in and wish the bride good luck."

I raise an eyebrow. "I guess so," I tell him, and he steps inside. He scrubs up reasonably well, in a formal all-black ensemble capped by his traditional duster. "You look nice."

"So do you," he says. "Nice to see you forewent tradition. I can't picture you having the happiest day of your life if you were in a dress."

"No, not as such," I agree, smoothing imaginary creases out of my fancy clothes. Even these are more than I really feel comfortable in - I long for my jeans and a nice, comfortable t-shirt - but I did feel obliged to dress up slightly for my wedding. "So, why the last-minute visit?"

He shrugs. "Do I need a reason? Maybe I just wanted to make sure that my best friend still feels like getting married today."

I grin at him. "Not a chance of otherwise."

He smiles. "Glad to hear it. Just make sure not to mutilate anyone on your way down the aisle."

8 - * - * - * - 8

You know, I never really expected to get here any way other than on a scholarship. I'm not a brain like Tish - I'm more or less just good at one thing, which is sport. Unfortunately, I didn't get far enough on _that _angle to get me into anywhere. So I wasn't really looking forward to the start of a new school year that would see everyone else moving on but me - Tino, Tish and Carver off to university while I got left behind.

So, imagine my surprise when I get an acceptance.

I stand at the end of Mutant Way, looking down the long, winding path leading from one end of campus to the other, and sigh. In horror.

Here I am, at university, a place I never genuinely expected to be, and on my own. Separated from my friends for the first time since...I can't really remember when. It's scary, and it's more frightening than I ever expected.

But it's not going to get any less scary if I never march down Mutant Way and face it.

Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, I make my way down the path, deftly weaving through the throngs of my fellow students, caught up in the thrill of Orientation Week. The whole place is a massive, living, breathing adrenaline rush, and I'll admit that some of my fear is seeping away and a real and genuine excitement is starting to overtake me. I look down at my map and try to plot out where I have to go to have my guided tour...and maybe get some coffee.

Unfortunately - moreso for him than me - I'm not really looking where I'm going at this point, resulting in my collision with a person who will, retrospectively - in his own unique way - change my life forever.

It turns out to be quite spectacular. Initially, all I did was walk into him - in my defence, he wasn't really watching where he was going either - but in the process of glancing off me, he stands in a nearby crack in the cement, causing him to trip spectacularly. I reach out to catch him, but in my haste manage to fumble and hit him in the eye. He is now completely off balance and falling forward. I grab at his arm but only get his jacket, which rips, and he finally hits the concrete ground face first, with a sickening crack.

"Ow," he offers.

All the blood drains from my face.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I reach out to help him up, but he doesn't seem particularly inclined to move. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he croaks. He rolls over very slowly to lie on his back, staring at the sky with a vacant expression, somehow accentuated by his rising shiner. "I think I just need to bleed for a little bit."

I look at the mess that had once been his nose and wince. "Gee, I'm sorry. Do you need a hand?"

"As long as it's not shaped as a fist," he says, reaching up to me. I grab his hand and haul him to his feet. He staggers over to a bench and sits down, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief to try and arrest the bleeding from his nose. "I think I swallowed some blood."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," I say. "Really, really sorry. So sorry you wouldn't believe it. Sorry in the sorriest sense of the word. I mean, so incredibly - "

"It's okay. I have a friend back home who makes what happened just there seems like child's play," he assures me.

"Really?" I ask doubtfully.

"Well, he comes pretty close." He sighs. "So, are you trying to kill me because we've met, or just for the fun of it?"

I shrug. "Well, I asked around."

He smiles at me as best he is able, with a smashed nose, a black eye, and a cut lip, and offers me his hand. "Phil DeVille."

I smile back and shake. "Lor McQuarrie."

8---8

"So what are you studying, anyway?"

"Arts degree," I tell him, sitting nervously in a chair in the school infirmary waiting room. "You?"

With one eye covered in an ice pack, he still manages to stare at me with both. "Same. Majoring in Visual Arts."

"Painting and stuff?" I ask, intrigued. Whatever vibe I was getting off Phil DeVille, painter certainly wasn't it.

He shrugs. "I dunno. I kind of enjoyed sketching and stuff. And in all honesty, I didn't expect to be going to university, so I'm sort of making it up as I go along - "

"I'm right with you on that," I cut him off. "Still haven't picked a major, though."

"I'd get on that fairly quickly if I was you," he suggests.

"Phil DeVille?" A nurse appears in the doorway to the waiting room.

He raises a hand. "Yeah. Coming." He gets up to leave, but turns to me first. "Thanks for walking me here...though I guess, seeing as you're the one who biffed me, we'll just call it even?"

I smile. "Sure, I think we can manage that."

"I'll catch you around," he says, grinning at me and walking into the exam room.

I nod to his retreating back and feel my grin widen a bit.

I think I just made a friend.

I practically leap out of my chair as my cell-phone rings, rather ruining this rather enlightening moment. I decide to creep outside and answer it, rather than enduring the glares of assorted others in the waiting room.

"Yes?" I ask the caller.

"Hey," Tish answers. "I just thought I'd call and see how you were settling in."

I sigh. "I broke a guy's nose."

"Already?"

I roll my eyes at that but grin anyway. "It was an accident. He seems really nice. How are you settling in yourself?"

"Not too bad," she tells me. "I'm telling you Lor, this place is _amazing_. There's a Shakespeare Club! And forums! And...so much awesome stuff! You'd hate it."

"Yeah, I probably would." And, though I would indeed get no pleasure out of hanging out at endless performances of musty old plays, I suddenly ache to be with Tish. "I wish I was there."

There's a sad noise from the other end of the line. "I wish you were here too."

I take a deep breath and suddenly find myself having to fight off tears. "Heard from either of the guys yet?"

"Carver called me this morning," Tish sounds like she too is trying to shake emotion from her voice. "For academic advice, naturally. Wanted help knowing what classes to enrol in."

I chuckle. "Left it a bit late, huh?"

"Wouldn't be Carver if he didn't," she agrees. "How did your enrolment go?"

I nod, though she evidently can't see me. "Pretty well. The lines were horrendous, though."

"Yeah, I can sympathise. Made any friends yet?"

I grin. "Just the guy whose nose I broke."

"Seriously?" she sounds unsurprisingly puzzled. "This is your typical opening?"

"Well...maybe it will be from now on. His name's Phil."

"Where's he from?"

I realise suddenly that I don't actually know anything about him. "Uh...well, I'm not sure. He's kind of in the doctor's office at the moment, so - "

Tish laughs. Quite loudly, actually. "Ah. Of course. Well, I hope your new friend makes a full recovery. I've gotta go - but talk to you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely. Alright, see you later."

"Later days," Tish says, and there's a beep from her end of the line signifying her hanging up.

"Later days indeed," I sigh, putting my phone back in my pocket, and wondering how much it would cost to fly to the East Coast.

8---8

I toy idly with a cup of coffee in the Caffe, pondering the right-angled turn my life has taken. I've got to admit that I kind of thought talking to Tish would make me feel better, but all it's done is made me feel more homesick than I was before. I've been forced to essentially let go of my life with nothing new yet to cling to. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I scowl into my coffee and decide it's no longer quite as appetising. I decide to grab a pack of chips and leave the building. At least, I do, before -

"Do you know," a voice comes from behind me, "that you're a very hard person to find?"

I turn around, startled, and see Phil DeVille standing there, wearing a small, subtle bandage on his nose and with his black eye already significantly reduced.

"If I sit down, do you promise not to beat me up?" he asks with a grin.

I roll my eyes. "I'll see what I can manage."

He sits down and I get my first real opportunity to look at the first person I've managed to actually meet, one way or another, since leaving Bahia Bay. Sure, I spent the best part of half-an-hour with him before he went into the Doctor's, but I was kind of running on adrenaline at the time and not in the best mood to notice things.

He's fairly tall, I guess, though now that he's sitting down it's harder to tell. He has wavy brown hair and brown eyes that seem unusually wide - except, obviously, for the one that's currently swollen practically shut. He has a light coating of stubble on his chin and a naturally happy expression.

"So, we didn't really get to do proper introductions before," he says, pulling a bag of chips out of his backpack. "I'm Philip DeVille, native of the outer suburbs of Los Angeles. And you are?" he asks, opening the pack and extending it toward me.

"Lor McQuarrie, from Bahia Bay, California," I tell him, reaching across to accept a handful of crisps. "So, do you live on campus or commute?"

He shakes his head. "Really outer suburbs. I couldn't be bothered commuting that far. I'm living on the South Side of the campus."

"Eastern block, myself," I tell him. "So, you like art?"

He nods. "Sort of, I guess. It wasn't really what I pictured myself doing with my life, but it's the only thing I got into that I actually wanted to do." He gives me a pointed look. "So, is this going to be one of those heavily revealing conversations where we discuss all the little nuances of our life?"

I shrug. "I'm up for it if you are. Siblings?"

"Twin sister," he tells me. "You?"

"Thirteen brothers."

His jaw drops.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I tell him, munching on a few chips and finding them to be Salt and Vinegar.

"No, it's not that," he says. "You just have it really easy, that's all. I'm envious."

"Really _easy_?" I say, disbelievingly.

"You have no sisters!" he exclaims. "Do you have any idea how much that must rock? I mean, as much as I love Lil, there are times I would have traded her for a brother in a heartbeat."

I roll my eyes. "I'll leave you to your delusions."

He laughs. "So, boyfriend?"

"Pardon?" I gasp. Surely he doesn't mean what I think he means.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he reiterates.

I breathe a sigh of relief. He's not suggesting anything. "Ye - no."

He raises an eyebrow. "Want to pick one or the other or just run with the inbetween?"

I frown. "I don't have a boyfriend, no. You?"

"No, I don't have a boyfriend either."

I groan at the painfully obvious line. "You knew what I meant."

He chuckles. "Yes, I have a girlfriend. Her name is Kimi Finster and she's studying Drama at CAA."

I choke on a chip and Phil reaches over the whack me on the back. I sputter and wash it down with some by now rather cold coffee. "CAA? Seriously?"

He nods. "Any reason I wouldn't be?"

I shrug. "It's just that my - uh, I know someone who goes there, too."

He gives me a sly look. "Would this be your not-a-boyfriend?"

I sigh. "Yes. His name's Tino."

Phil nods. "Ah. Okay. So...ex, or never was but should have been?"

"The latter."

"My sympathies." He pulls a cold drink out of his backpack and takes a swig before offering me some. I shrug and take a sip. "What's he studying?"

"Creative writing," I say, biting my lower lip. "Would you mind particularly if we didn't have this conversation?"

"Not a problem," he backs off quickly. "So, why Arts for you?"

I shrug. "Well, for me, it was more or less this or nothing. It wasn't much of a choice, with those kinds of options."

He nods. "Fair enough. Got your timetable yet?"

I shake my head. "I'm getting in really late on that one, I'm afraid."

He grins. "Good luck. If they haven't given you it at your Orientation lecture, then you're in trouble. A dire case of clashing."

"Oh, great," I moan, and he laughs. "Glad to know that my pain is so amusing."

"Sorry," he says, "but this kind of thing normally happens to me all the time. I hope you get good times, anyway."

"So do I," I say, already with images of 7am classes filling my head. "Hope we manage to match up on a couple, anyway."

"Yeah." He rises from the table swinging his backpack over one shoulder. "I've got to go and check out my dorm, anyway, so...I'll see you around campus?"

I nod. "Definitely. Actually...got a phone number for your dorm yet?"

"Yeah," he says, digging in his pocket for a pen and a scrap of paper. He ends up scribbling his number on the back of a napkin. "Don't wipe your mouth with that," he suggests, shoving the pen back in his pocket. "You'll get ink all over you."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," I tell him. "Well, I'll get on to you at some point if I don't see you."

He nods. "I await with great anticipation."

And then he strolls off, whistling a tune I am completely unable to identify.

Maybe I have something new to cling to after all.

8---8

new chapter coming soon! Hope you're enjoying the story so far, and please review!


	3. Pizza Is The Devil Incarnate

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN – Alright, this chapter is kind of transitional, and continues the deepening friendship between these two characters. Tish makes an appearance and the others rate a mention. See if you can pick up on Phil's quiet revelation toward the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer - The characters from The Weekenders are the property of Disney, the characters from AGU are property of KlaskyCsupo.

8---8

"You look unusually pale," Phil tells me. "I can get you a bucket if you want to hurl. And some breath mints, of course. I understand you're meant to be kissing someone later."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not going to vomit. I'm not nervous."

He smiles. "It's okay to be nervous."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Of course," he says. "Just because you're nervous doesn't mean you don't want to get married. It just means that you're extremely excited about the concept of spending the rest of your life with someone else."

"Voice of experience?" I ask.

He scowls at me. "Don't you start."

I reach out and squeeze his hand. "Thanks for coming to see me before the actual wedding, Phil. I couldn't do it without you."

And the scowl is gone and he's smiling again. "I'll see you out there," he says, squeezing my shoulder.

"You definitely will," I tell him.

A knock at the door precedes Tish's entrance. "All right, Phil, out. I have to do my Maid of Honorly duties now."

Phil turns around and faces Tish with a smirk on his face, the kind he gets when he has new trouble to cause. "Ah, Tish. You're a vision."

She glares at him. "Haven't you learnt yet not to smirk at a pregnant woman? After what happened with Angelica?"

He rolls his eyes. "Three weeks pregnant! It's too early for you to be able to claim hormones as an excuse. And I don't think Angelica _meant_ to throw the plate at me - "

"Out, out, out! Time for a rare girly moment," she orders, pushing him physically out of the room.

"Alright, alright! See you guys out - "

His last words are cut off by Tish slamming the door shut. But at least she's smiling.

It's good to know that all my friends can at least get along.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I answer my door in trepidation. I had kind of hoped that, after a week of having my dorm mate in my face, I would be able to spend the night alone, catching up on my studying - I have this weird burning desire not to flunk out - but now, instead, I've got a visitor.

A pizza box greets me. "I come bearing greasy foods," Phil DeVille announces over the box, before raising a bottle of cola. "And greasier softdrinks. Have you eaten?"

My stomach gives a little kick reminding me that I have, indeed, not eaten since lunch. In fact, I can't even remember if I actually had lunch. "No. Come in."

Phil strides in, depositing the pizza box and drink on the table. He looks around at our surroundings before turning to me with a smirk on his face. "You got gypped," he tells me. "My dorm must be a half again the size of this pillbox."

I glare at him. "I hope your dormmate snores."

He grins darkly. "My dormmate dropped out yesterday - thank god, because he was a jerk."

I feel somewhere between bewildered and infuriated. "You mean to tell me that you have a massive dorm _to yourself_?"

"Some of us have all the luck, I guess," he drawls, before chuckling quietly. "Where do you keep the glasses?"

"Cupboard above the sink," I tell him. "Get some plates while you're there."

"So, started work on any of the dreaded assignments yet?" he asks, bringing the plates and glasses over from the tiny kitchenette.

"Yeah," I say, "this really rubbishy creative one for Literature. You?"

He flinches. "Uh...well, I was kind of hoping you'd say no, so it wouldn't make me look so bad when I say that I haven't actually started..."

I roll my eyes. "You're going to drop out next if you're not careful."

"Yeah, but I'll have had fun."

Sometime later, after we've demolished most of the pizza and downed the bulk of the softdrink, the room resembles nothing so much as a warzone. Phil lays strewn on the floor while I lie on the bed with my torso dangling over the side. "Dude, we are never eating pizza from that place again."

"Hear hear," Phil groans, clutching at his stomach. "I think I'm going to explode."

"I think I'm right there with you," I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute."

I get up and stumble over to the en-suite, throwing it open and sidling up to the commode. I consider throwing up for a minute, but decide just to sit and breathe in the cool air.

When the phone rings.

I'm about to get up and go back into the main room to answer it, when...

"Terry's Eats, we never close. Can I help? Lil? Is that you? How did you get this number? Ah. Okay. Yes, this is Lor McQuarrie's phone. She's...well, she's around here somewhere. You said this is Tish?"

I stumble out of the en-suite and grab the phone from Phil. "Tish, that you?"

"Who the hell is the guy who answered the phone and why did he call me Lil?"

Listening to their voices, actually, I can hear an eerie similarity. "That was Phil. We just had pizza."

"You're going out with someone already?" Tish asks, sounding surprised. "What happened to - "

"We're not going out, Tish," I assure her, noticing that Phil has gotten up and staggered out of the dorm, but has left his backpack so I assume he's not going far. "We're just friends. He's kind of cute, sure, but I'm definitely not interested in anyone else, and he already has a girlfriend anyway. Who, completely coincidentally, goes to CAA."

There's a pause. "Alright, that's kind of freaky. Coincidence wise, anyway."

"Yeah. She and Tino will probably end up being best buds. Anyway, how was your first week?"

Tish brightens at this question. "It was awesome. I have decided that University is what High School should have been. Everyone here really _wants_ to learn, Lor! It's fantastic."

I smile at my friend's obvious enthusiasm. "I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it so much," I tell her. "I knew you would."

"Yeah, I guess I did too," she says. "Miss you guys like nothing else, though. Did Tino or Carver end up getting on to you?"

I sigh in frustration, and that appears to be all the answer she needs.

"Sorry to hear it," she tells me. "Look, I've kind of got to go right now - I'm meeting some friends for a little party thingy for surviving the first week. When can I call you?"

"Anytime. I'm really not doing anything."

"You won't be out with your new _friend_?"

"Don't put the emphasis like that," I tell her. "We're just friends, and nothing more."

"Good," she says, just as Phil opens the door gingerly and staggers over to the chair in the corner, slumping down into it. "Don't want to be rushing into a relationship or anything. You just started university. You have enough on your plate."

"How true," I agree. "Alright, we'll I'll let you go then."

"Thanks," she says. "Talk to you sometime on the weekend, okay?"

Those words hit me right in the gut. For the first time ever, I will not be spending the weekend with Carver, Tino and Tish.

I knew it was going to have to change eventually. But I reserve the right to be sad about it.

"Definitely. See you."

We hang up, and I turn to Phil, who is looking at me intently. "So, that was Tish?"

I nod. "Yes."

"One of the famous foursome?"

I smile at him. "Yeah. My best friend. I mean, Carver and Tino are my best friends too, but Tish is...well, she's just kind of - "

"Completely know what you mean," he says, reaching for the softdrink bottle and pouring himself a small glass. "You know how I told you I grew up with everyone? Well, though they were all great friends, we all had someone we could tell everything to that we even kept from everyone else. Tommy had Chuckie, Susie had Kimi, and I had Dil."

"What was he like?" I ask. "You haven't told me anything about your friends, other than that they exist."

He laughs, his eyes phasing back as if traveling to some distant memory. "Dylan Pickles is...unique, to say the least. Maybe that's why we were such great friends. He has a very odd way of looking at the world sometimes, but it never stops him from knowing exactly how things are, if you get what I mean." I can only nod in response. "What's Tish like?"

I grin. "She's the single most determined person on the face of the planet, bar none. When she makes up her mind to do something, she does it, and no-one had better try to stop her. She's very smart, and we all knew at about age nine that she was going to end up as the finest alumni from any one of a number of great universities. I think she would have gone and studied in England if she didn't get homesick so much. And she's always ready to listen - even when she's doing her homework, she's able to multitask enough to solve all my problems at the same time."

He looks vaguely envious. "If you interrupt Dil while he's working, then he tends to get cross at you for interrupting him while he's speaking to his muse." He sighs. "Good friend despite that, though. Game of cards?" he asks, digging through his bag and withdrawing a deck.

I shrug. "Sure."

A while later, as I'm considering what card to play against Phil's left bower, my newfound friend bursts out with, "So, tell me about Tino."

Startled, I look over at him quizzically. "What? Why?"

He shrugs. "I'm curious. You seem to really hold a torch for the guy, that's all. I mean, over the last week, everytime you mention his name, you get all...misty. Kind of like I do with Kimi, I guess, but you've never gone out with him. So..."

I sigh. Here comes the big question, of course. How good a friend is Phil DeVille. I mean, for someone who I only met a week ago, I've seen him pretty much every day since and we talk pretty much endlessly. But most of this stuff I've never even shared with Tish. She just knows that I was going to ask him out.

On the other hand, this is a person who, probably, found himself in a very similar situation to myself. After all, he's going out with one of his best friends.

"Tino is...well, he's kind of indescribable. He has this incredible zest for life - but he's subtle about it. It's what I like about him, I guess."

He smiles at me. "Yeah, I think I know the feeling. Though Kimi was never subtle about it. What makes you want to go from being friends to being in a relationship, though?"

I feel my forehead crinkle in a frown. "I...I dunno. It just feels...right. It just feels like...well, it's different from Carver. He was always just my friend in a very platonic sense. But Tino just feels...right."

He smiles. "Welcome to the world of being in love. You can't quite describe it. I'm guessing Tino's different to any boyfriend you've ever had so far?"

I laugh out loud at that. "Thompson and I were a very brief and impressive mistake. Crushes do not translate well to relationships, necessarily. We went out for a few weeks, but it ended because neither of us really knew what to do with a relationship once we were in one." I pit him with what I hope is an interrogatory stare, but I'm so slothlike from over-doing the pizza that it probably looks like I'm going to vomit. "Is Kimi your first girlfriend?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No," he says, lifting a hand and counting off on his fingers. "Wally - first girlfriend, hopeless crush, age 11 to 12. She was captain of my soccer team and seemed like the ideal girl at the time. Amanda - big mistake. Age 14, very pretty, thick as two short planks, and cheated on me. I wasn't really fussed. Susie - brief fling when she was in her Senior year and I was a Sophomore. Far too different to work out, however, and we parted amicably before she left for college. And then Kimi, in our junior year, after a convoluted and very abstract courtship."

I look at him to elaborate.

"Which is a story for when I'm able to move," he says.

I groan in frustration and he laughs.

8---8

_more coming soon._


	4. Abduction as an experiment in sociology

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN – Alright, this is inexcusably late. It's been almost 2 years, I know. But don't think that this fic – or the Road series – has been abandoned. I've been unable to write for ages, but now I'm working on the group project at Animatoons, it's like I've found my own muse again, and it's all just coming to me. I've got two new Road series fics drafted, a new chapter of "Tertiary" and a few other bits and pieces, including an upcoming side-story for this fic. But, seeing as this was the fic that I left on, this should really be the one I come back on. The long-overdue "Tertiary: Chapter 3". Enjoy, and please review!

Phil's ultimate set of CDs is based on a playlist I've been listening to a lot.

Disclaimer: the characters from "The Weekenders" are property of Disney. The AGU gang are property of KlaskyCsupo.

**Dedicated to LordMalachite **(for pushing this fic onward at the beginning), **Jonathan Sario **(for pushing me onward at all times) and **Luke** (for pushing me back to where I am now).

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Don't fiddle with my hair," I order Tish. "It looks fine."

"You're sure you don't want me to do something...different with it?" she asks - or, moreso, pleads.

I smirk. "I'm sure."

She rolls her eyes. "You know, you've been hanging around Phil too long. That smirk is dead on." She gives up on convincing me to change my hair and gets up and paces around the room. "This is really incredible, you know. Your wedding."

"I think I've been contemplating it enough for the both of us, thank you," I tell her, not wanting to get on to this track of conversation.

She looks at me worriedly. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

I stare at myself in the mirror contemplatively. "I don't think so. I just..." I turn to Tish, with what is probably a worried look in my eyes. "When you got married, did you ever think it was a really big change, even though it wasn't? Just something about the actual wedding - the actual, technical commitment - made it so radically different to living with each other for years, for being pretty much married in everything but name?"

Tish sighs. "I know what you mean. Even if it might not seem like it, getting married it a really big step." She smiles at me. "When did you really fall in love with him? Not a crush or an attraction or really comfortable friendship. When did you actually fall in love with him?"

I chuckle. "I think Oakland. The weekend in Oakland."

8 - * - * - * - 8

I stumble out of the lecture hall into the bright afternoon sun. It's Friday afternoon. It's a beautiful Friday afternoon, and I have homework to do, as my exceptionally heavy backpack is eager to remind me. But I kind of just want to bask in the sunshine. Maybe I'll compromise and do my reading in the park.

"Hey, Lor!"

Phil has pulled up at the curb next to the lecture theatre and waved me over. I raise an eyebrow - he very rarely drives his car on campus, preferring to get around on foot unless he has to go into the city for something. I walk over to him and lean on the passenger's side window. "Hey, Phil. Don't you have some sort of class?"

He shakes his head. "Nup," he says, "all done for the week. Got all my homework done, even. Want to go get a drink? I heard about a great new place."

I raise an eyebrow at the surprising change of topic, but decide it is best to go with the flow. "Alright. But we can't stay there long, some of us aren't all caught up on our work."

He smiles. "Probably won't be there for more than one drink. I have a busy weekend planned too."

Okay, now alarm bells are ringing in my head. "Your only plans this weekend was to play pool with me in The Bunker."

"Yes, but I am very dedicated to them," he says, with - to his credit - a completely straight face. "Hop in."

I sling my backpack onto the back seat and hop in, and minutes later we are cruising away from the campus. I watch the scenery fly by through my window and notice that we are heading toward the highway. "Uh, Phil, where is this bar?"

I hear a click as the doors in the car all lock. "Oakland."

My jaw drops. "What!?" I exclaim. "Stop this car right now! I can't go to Oakland! I have classes. I have homework."

"You have your homework with you, and we're blowing off Monday's classes," he says. "This is non-negotiable, just so you know."

"I have no clothes!" I say. "I'll have to wear what I'm wearing now all weekend."

He grins. "Your overnight bag is in the boot."

My eyes widen. "My _what!?_"

"I ransacked your closet," he admits.

"How did you even get into my dorm?" I demand, probably glaring at him but not really caring.

"I told your roommate that if she let me ransack your closet, I would get you out for the weekend," he says. "She was very co-operative."

I shake my head and collapse back into my seat, covering my face with my hands. "Why are we going to Oakland, Phil?"

"Because you have done very little for the last month other than pine for a guy who you aren't even going out with. This would have been acceptable for someone you've broken up with, but not for someone who doesn't even know how you feel about him. So we are going to go to CAA, you are going to find Tino and take him somewhere - anywhere - and tell him you're in love with him. And, as a neat side bonus, I'm going to whisk Kimi away for a romantic weekend in a bed somewhere."

I sigh. "This is insane, Phil. We can't just drive to Oakland on a whim."

He shrugs. "We've got a full tank of petrol, a glove box full of CDs, an esky full of food, a thermos full of coffee, and bags full of clothes. I see no reason why not." He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "So, know any good car games?"

I groan in agony. "What if I can't tell him I love him? Won't the weekend have been a waste?"

He chuckles. "That depends on whether I find Kimi or not. But you'll tell him. Trust me. You've been without the guy for four weeks, and you appear to be going crazy. Although that's just my best guess. You might have always been like that. But I think that you'll probably be able to use the motivation of wanting him so badly that you can clearly find little else worth thinking about to make sure you get the job done."

I glare at him, but will admit he has a point, and sigh in tragic defeat. "Alright, alright. I'm not making any promises, though," I warn him.

"I wouldn't ask you to," he assures me.

I take a deep breath, hold it for two beats, and then let it out slowly and steadily, in some sort of meditation technique that either Tish or Tino's Mom taught me and I've never quite shaken. It works reasonably well. I want to strangle Phil for springing this on me less and less with each passing second. "So you said something about music?"

He points with one hand to the glove box, which I open and start rifling through. I dig out a CD wallet and start flicking through the pages.

I read some of the titles very closely indeed.

"You have very odd taste in music, you know that, don't you?"

He simply shrugs. "Growing up, everyone seemed to like different music, and I picked up a bit from everyone."

I look at him in disbelief as I flick through the CDs. "The Doors. The Birthday Party. Queen. Chuck Berry. David Bowie. Johnny Cash. Pink Floyd. What, you couldn't pick on genre and stick with it?"

He chuckles. "What fun would that be?"

"The Band. Creedence. The Eels." I shake my head. "Well, to each their own..." I come to the back page of the wallet and look at the CDs in puzzlement. "What are these?"

"What are what?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the Friday afternoon traffic.

"This bunch of burnt CDs labelled 85.1 through 85.5," I specify.

"Oh!" he exclaims excitedly. "Put that on. I forgot I had those."

I withdraw 85.1 and look at it cautiously. "What's on it?"

"Everything," he says.

I shrug and put it in the CD player, which shortly starts playing something slow and balladic.

"Helpless, Neil Young," Phil identifies it, tapping along with it on the steering wheel. "So, you never did answer me about the car games."

I smile, finally caving to the fact that this weekend may not go as badly as I feared it would. "Do you know Famous People?"

8---8

I feel the car jolt and my eyes shoot open, blinking rapidly. I look around in something of a haze and realise that I fell asleep. Nuts. I hate falling asleep in cars.

"Are we there?" I ask, my mouth feeling like it's full of cotton balls.

Phil shakes his head as he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "Gas stop. Be a good time to use the bathroom too, if you have to."

I stumble out of the car and head for the toilets while Phil starts filling the car. The sun has almost already set, so I must have been asleep for a while. I look around and try to work out where we are, but in my sleep and travel-razzled state, I can't recognise anything, so I just settle on stumbling inside.

By the time we get back underway, coffee in the cup holders and snacks replenished, Phil comments, "You were out of it for a while there. We're a bit more than halfway to Oakland."

I nod. "Good. I hate long car trips, you know."

"Well if you'd told me that, I'd have gotten plane tickets," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He barks out a laugh. "Hell no. You think I have that much money?"

Phil slips in another of his "85" CDs, and immediately a loud drum line picks up and causes me to almost drop my coffee. "What the hell is that!?"

"Listen Like Thieves, INXS," he says. "Great energy." He starts practically dancing in the drivers seat, causing me to grow concerned for our safety.

"Did you want me to take a turn behind the wheel there?" I ask, cautiously.

He shrugs. "Nah. I'm fine for it."

Though slightly doubtful, I decide not to press the point. "I wanted to thank you for bringing me along," I tell him.

He turns to look at me, briefly, with a puzzled expression. "You know it's not a problem," he says.

I shake my head. "No, I really mean it. I mean, I know how much you want to see Kimi and everything, and I'm probably just going to get in the way with my whole big emotional issues - "

Phil reaches over with one hand and hits me on the back of the head.

"Ow!" I exclaim, reaching over and wacking him on the arm. "What the hell was that for!?"

He grins. "Consider it your incentive to not say anything stupid anymore. Every time you say something stupid, I'm going to hit you over the head."

I look at him incredulously. "Noted."

He turns his head back to the highway. "Now, I want to make it clear that if I ever hear one more word from you that you're a burden or that I should not bother to hang around with you, you're going to to get hit. Fairly hard. Because I want you to remember that we're _friends_, Lor. And as hard as it may be for you - I know it's been hard for me - to bring a new friend into your inner circle, I want you to know that I feel like you've become a part of mine. If you don't consider me as good a friend as I consider you, then that's fine - I'm not offended or worried or anything. But regardless, you've made a very difficult part of my life a lot easier, and therefore nothing about helping you or spending time with you is ever an inconvenience. Got it?"

I lean back in my seat and feel a smile spreading across my face. I nod slowly. "Got it."

"Good. Alright, I spy with my little eye something beginning with T."

8---8

I rub at my head as Phil sings along rambunctiously to "Hey Man" and glare at him slightly. "You know, I'm never going to be able to tell Tino I love him if you give me a headache."

He chuckles. "There are other things you won't be able to do with a headache, either. If you get the love thing out of the way, I'd be more worried about those."

I sigh and decide getting off this track of conversation might be a good idea. "So, does Kimi know you're coming?"

He shakes his head and gets his latest cup of coffee out of the drink holder. "No. I didn't really know I was coming until this afternoon, so I decided to just say 'heck with it' and surprise her."

I mull over that for a second. "What if she faints with the surprise and you can't have your romantic weekend because she's in hospital?"

Phil makes a 'pfft' noise. "Well, aren't we Ms. The Glass is Half-Empty."

I chuckle. "Alright. R."

He looks contemplative. "Male?"

"Yes."

"Musician?"

I frown. "Yes."

"Tony Ricketson. The guitarist from Chum Bukkit."

I glare at him. "How?"

He shrugs. "I read the liners on all your CDs that time you were talking to Carver on the phone. It didn't take long. Did you know that almost all your CDs are by Chum Bukkit? I swear, you have, like, no musical taste." He taps his feet along to 'Sunsets'. "Now this, this is music."

I shrug. "I prefer stuff with less angsty lyrics."

He makes a mock-offended noise. "We're in our late teens. How can you not love the angst!? I mean...all the angsty angst!"

I hit him over the back of the head.

8---8

I look up at the dorm building and check the piece of paper in my wallet with everyone's address on it. "Yeah, this is the one."

Phil smiles at me. "Good. I don't see any lights on. This must be the most boring building on campus."

"Phil, it's almost midnight."

"It's Friday," he counters. "You can sleep all of Saturday away if you so desire."

I sigh. "Good point."

He grins in victory. "Alright, do you want your overnight bag now, or do you want to call me tomorrow and I'll swing it by?"

I sigh. "Better get it now. Will you have your mobile on in case I have to get in touch with you?"

He nods. "Definitely. But don't call tonight unless it's an emergency. 'Cause, you know...well - you do know, yes?"

I glare at him. "Have a nice night Phil."

He grins. "Count on it."

8 - * - * - * - 8

(please review! I know it's been a while, but hopefully someone will still want to read this!)


	5. My Weekend in Oakland

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN - A friend of mine and I were cleaning up around here and found a great big stack of videos. After popping one in and discovering a whole ton of Weekenders episodes, we decided to watch the others only to find more and more. I had taped the show religiously before starting work on Tertiary years ago, trying to research Lor's character and get into her head. As it turns out I've still got all the tapes...and thus I've been watching them religiously again, trying to bring myself back up to speed and finally finish this story. There are episodes on the tapes that I'd not seen before, and I've been really trying to get a feel for them again - I was surprised by how arrogant but insecure Lor was, moreso than I remembered. So, to that end, I've had her character grow up a bit but hopefully maintained that combination which made her so great on the show. Hopefully this time I'll stay the distance.

Disclaimer - The characters contained within are the property of Disney Animation (The Weekenders) and KlaskyCsupo (All Grown Up).

---  
Chapter 5: My Weekend in Oakland  
---

"There you are!" Carver says very loudly as he strides into the dressing room. "Tish, you're wanted in the main hall. Angelica and Lor's dad are starting to argue about how to keep everyone under control. It's getting ugly. You better get out there."

Tish rolls her eyes. "We just got up to the good part of the story!" she whines, but obediently gets up and stalks out. "You're lucky I'm such a nice person, you know..."

Carver grins as Tish shuts the door behind herself. "You know, I sometimes regret that I didn't try harder to steal her from Peter."

I smile wryly. "No, you don't. You two would have never worked out and you know it."

He shrugs. "Maybe, but hey - fun while it lasts?"

I nod. "I guess so." I sigh and turn back to the mirror. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"

He nods. "Shoot."

I take a deep breath. "Do you think this is all going to work out?"

He blinks, slowly. "Do I _what_?"

I turn to him in frustration. "I'm seriously asking you here. Do you think this is going to work out for the best or is this going to end up being some tragic mistake that I never should have made?"

He looks at me incredulously. "Are you getting cold feet?"

I glare at him. "No!"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Alright, maybe."

He groans. "And exactly why did it have to be _me_ that this little revelation was made to!? You know, you're going to give me worry lines, and ruin my incredibly beautiful visage - "

I throw a cushion at him.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I rub at my eyes but I'm not really tired. I have so much adrenaline racing through me at this very minute that I doubt I could sleep if I tried. I'm standing at the base of Tino Tonitini's dorm building, at nearly midnight, with one sole purpose of being here.

To tell him I love him.

And I have no idea how I'm going to do it.

Well, I guess I won't get very far regardless if I don't actually make my presence known.

I walk up to the buzzer on his building's front wall and push the number for his apartment. There's no answer, and to try and counter my increasingly rising nerves, I press it again. Twice. And then a third time.

Just as I'm having a fourth jab at it, his voice cuts me off through the speaker. "It's midnight and I've had a very long week. What do you want!?"

And that's all it takes for me to smile and my nerves evaporate. At last, after so long being apart from my old friends, there's one of them within distance. He's so close I can feel it. Even if I have woken him up and he's cranky.

"Hello? If this is a joke, I'm not impressed with your lack of originality."

I shake off my little moment and remember that I'm meant to be doing something here.

"Tino? It's Lor."

It's hard to portray a stunned silence over an intercom speaker, but somehow, Tino manages it. It's got something to do with his barely audible breathing, I think. Finally, he manages to sputter, "Lor?"

Despite knowing that he can't see me, I shrug and bend my body inwards abashedly. "Yeah...sorry for waking you."

He seems to dispel his surprise long enough to buzz me in. "It's no problem. Come on up. It's on the third floor."

As I pull open the door, I look at the stairs with trepidation. Up those stairs is Tino, someone who I've been friends with for years and years, someone who I've had feelings for for as long as I care to recall, someone who I'm about to invade the home of to ask him if he wants to be in a relationship with me.

Those stairs suddenly look awfully steep.

But on the other hand, up those stairs is Tino, who I've been friends with for years and years, who - like my other friends - I've missed terribly for months, who can make me feel a lot better with something as simple as a smile.

Suddenly I can't move up the stairs fast enough.

When I finally reach his door and knock on it, he's already clearly waiting, because I've barely put my fist to the wood when it swings open in front of me, revealing the sleep-disheveled - but fully dressed, I note with a wry smile - form of one of my oldest friends and my secret crush. Beyond him I can see a neatly arranged dorm-room half the size of mine and an absolute box compared to Phil's, but with only one bed and one dresser taking up the space.

"Come on in, Lor," he says, moving out of the way. "Coffee?"

I've drunk so much caffeine today that I think consuming any more would literally send me flying off the rafters. "No, thanks, I'm okay," I tell him. "I'll have some water or something, though."

He nods and walks over to his tiny kitchenette, where the kettle is already on and he has a cup set up for himself. I did wake him up, after all.

"So, not that I'm not glad to see you," he begins, "but what on earth are you doing here?"

Somehow I don't think 'I'm here to tell you I'm in love with you' is going to be a winning answer here. "I'm here with a friend. His girlfriend goes here, he's come for a visit and I thought I'd tag along and...see you."

He turns back to me with a glass of water in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "I'm happy you came," he tells me, handing me the water. "I've missed you. A lot."

My heart leaps.

"It's been fun settling in here and everything," he continues, sitting down on the bed and indicating a chair in the corner to me. I pull it away from the wall and sit facing him. "But sometimes I wish I was back home with you and Tish and Carver and this was all just something that we could try again next year, or...am I making any sense?"

I smile at him. "Yes, you are."

He reaches out and grasps my hand. "I'm happy you came," he repeats. He leans back and takes a slow sip of his coffee. "So, you said you're here with a friend?"

I nod, trying to make my mind function enough to make conversation. "Yes. His name's Phil. Like I said, his girlfriend goes here - drama and media studies."

"I'm glad you've made a friend. I'm afraid I'm not having much luck on that count," he tells me.

"I'll get Phil to introduce you to Kimi. Maybe you guys will get on as well as we have."

He chuckles at that.

And there it is. I realise, somewhere fleetingly in the back of my mind, that I will never again have such a wonderful opportunity to tell him. The moonlight, the starry evening sky, the mood of the moment - it's all perfect. Just like last time. Only this time, I can hear in the back of my head - a voice, saying we'll have a good weekend, that I can do this, that it's what I need one way or another, and that he's there for me.

"Tino," I begin, slowly, "I need to tell you something."

He sets down his coffee cup and looks me in the eye. "Yes, Lor?"

"I've only been away from you and Carver and Tish for a few months now, I guess," I say, at a snails pace but with growing confidence, "but I miss you all so much already. But...you most of all."

I can't quite bring myself to look in his eyes, afraid of what I'll see, so I train my eyes on my glass of water, watching the patterns and light shifting in the liquid. "I've had a crush on you for years," I tell him. "But only since I've been gone - since you've been gone - have I realised just how much you've meant to me, as a friend and as someone who I want to be more than a friend with. And how much I'd like to...know if there could be anything more there for you, too."

I still haven't looked up but I hear him inhale. "Lor..." is all he says.

My fight-or-flight response is screaming at me to run far, far away from here but I can't bring myself to move.

At least, not until he kisses me.

It's funny, you'd think I'd be able to describe my first kiss with the man I love in greater detail, but I can't find the words. We kiss. It's wonderful. I don't know what to say it feels like, or how it feels or anything - I just know that we're kissing. The rest of it is beyond me.

When we finally pull back from each other he traces my cheek with his fingers. "The night before we all left for college, I thought you were going to -"

"I was," I tell him. "I wanted to tell you that night but I...wussed out."

He smiles at me and kisses me again. "I've had a crush on you for ages, you know," he says. "But I never thought you'd...well, y'know. Be interested in someone like me."

I don't want to admit that I had the same fears. So I just settle for making out with him instead.

The night slowly climbs into day and we don't sleep, instead just sit in his room, discovering a whole new side to our relationship. It's weird: we've been best friends for years and years, but there is so much we don't know about each other. I open up to him about things that I've never told my friends - about my brothers, about my dreams and hopes, things I've only told a select few people, some things that I've never told anyone at all. And he does the same - we talk about the strained relationship he has with his dad, how college life is working out for him, and how we feel being so far away from each other and everyone else.

Eventually our conversation just dies out, not because we don't have anything to say, but because we don't have to say anything else. He strokes my hair and neck as we lie together on his bed, watching each other quietly, just breathing, wondering to myself why I waited as long as I did...

8---8

I am awakened by a ringing phone somewhere in the vicinity, and it takes me a second to realise it's my mobile. My eyes snap open to see Tino lying opposite me, his blond hair - longer than I remember it being - raped across his still closed eyes. I decide I should probably answer my phone so he can stay asleep. I don't know what time it was when we drifted off but it must have been pretty late.

I pick up my phone without even bothering to look at the caller I.D. I'm pretty certain I know who it is.

"The dead have arisen!" the voice on the other end of the line says. "I was starting to get worried."

I roll my eyes and slide off the bed, standing on sore and complaining muscles. "It's not that late, Phil," I tell him, walking across toward the door.

"It's three in the afternoon, Lor."

My head whips around to look at the alarm clock on Tino's bedside table, and I note that it is, indeed, well into the day. But I'm not about to let Phil be right. "I don't think three is late on a Saturday, thanks very much. Anyway, I had a late night."

"Really?" Phil says, implication dripping in his tone.

"None of that, thanks very much," I tell him, taking another look at Tino as I slip out the door. "It was all very nice and pleasant. We talked. A lot."

"And...did you tell him?"

I feel a burst of happiness shoot through me. "Yes. I told him."

"And by the barely restrained glee in your voice I'm assuming it went well."

I slump against the wall outside my boyfriend's dorm room - he's my boyfriend! - and sigh. "Phil, this is so awesome. Why didn't you tell me this is so awesome?"

"You'd never have believed me. Are you too far gone into the state of awesomeness to meet me and Kimi for lunch?"

"Sure. Give us a couple of minutes and we'll meet you...where?"

"Kim says there's a nice cafe in the courtyard we drove through yesterday. Sound good to you?"

"We'll be there with bells on."

8---8

The nice cafe' transpires to be a rather large open-air dining kind of thing that artists seem to favour, with the option of massively oversized wooden tables and benches or smaller, square tables around which you could only fit five or so people. It's at one of the larger tables that I spot Phil, wearing a pair of sunglasses that are decidedly more feminine than I would normally associate with him. This is quickly explained by a girl snatching them off his face and putting them on herself, giggling and slapping him on the back of the head in a 'you're a real doofus' kind of manner. She sits opposite him but when she leans across the table she appears to be quite small by comparison to Phil, who meets her in a kiss as he tries again to take her sunglasses. She has black hair tied in a ponytail that hangs down her back, and an easy-going kind of demeanor about her.

This must be Kimi.

Phil spots me and Tino approaching and shoots me a grin, standing up to give me a hug as we approach. "Congrats, Lor," he whispers in my ear, slapping me on the back.

I pull back and smile at him. "Thanks for making me do this," I say, inaudible to the other two.

Phil smiles at me again and releases me, stepping back to stand next to Kimi and put a hand on her shoulder. "Kimi Finster, this is Lor McQuarrie, and - I assume - "

"Oh, yeah!" I slap myself on the head. "Phil, Kimi, this is Tino Tonitini."

I shake Kimi's hand while Phil and Tino do the same. "The legendary Tino Tonitini. I've heard a lot about you."

Tino looks surprised. "Really?"

"Oh, sure, Lor talks about you and your friends all the time." Phil sits down next to his girlfriend and I pull Tino down onto the bench on the opposite side of the table. "I must have heard dozens of stories about the four of you since we started going to school together."

Tino looks at me appraisingly. "I missed you guys. It helped to talk."

He wraps an arm around my shoulder. "I missed you too."

"Aw," Phil offers from across the table, before Kimi elbows him in the ribs.

"Ignore this moron," she suggests. "It's nice to meet you both."

"And you. Phil tells me you're studying drama and media arts?"

She nods. "Yeah. It's great fun. Not exactly what I pictured doing with my life...but you don't often get that anymore. I mean if anyone told me years ago that this one," she lays her hand over Phil's on the table, "was going to be studying to be an artist, I doubt I'd have stopped short of laughing in their face."

"He's really good," I tell her, for reasons I'm not sure of. I feel oddly compelled to stick up for Phil's chosen vocation. "The stuff he's been working on lately is amazing."

Phil grins. "She's exaggerating, but I'm really happy with it. I can't wait to show you."

Kimi tilts her head and looks at Tino more closely for a moment. "Wait. T. Tonitini? You write for _The Grace_?"

I turn to look at Tino and notice he's staring at me in some kind of strange wonderment, one that I used to think was reserved solely for Natasha, the punk girl. I kick him lightly in the shins and he starts, realizing that the question was directed at him. I can't help but feel relieved that, to some extent at least, he's still the same old Tino that I've always known.

"Yeah," he says, "I've written a few bits and pieces for them."

"You're very good," she compliments him. "I particularly liked that story about the gardens, all the people who were there - "

"_A Day in the Green_. Yeah, thanks. We used to spend our childhood doing stuff like that, so I guess it comes pretty easily to me."

"I dunno about you guys," I cut in on the conversation, "but I could use a coffee. Do they do table service here?"

Tino shakes his head. "No, you have to go in and order." He rises. "I'll go get us some."

"Here, wait, I'll come with you," Phil offers, following Tino up. "Gotta get in my quota of chivalry now, while I've got the chance."

"You came pretty close last night," Kimi cuts in, "but if you're going to quote Shakespeare from under my window you really should rehearse the lines first."

"And here I thought it was more romantic to be spontaneous," Phil calls back over his shoulder in a bit of a flirtatious manner. He follows Tino into the Cafe. I realise that neither Kimi nor I said what we wanted to order, but I reflect that we must have had coffee together a dozen times or more and surely he knows what his girlfriend would like.

"So, you're Lor McQuarrie, huh?" Kimi says suddenly. I hadn't realised we'd been sitting in silence for almost a minute until she broke it.

"Uh...yeah. I am. And you're Kimi Finster."

She looks at me a little apprehensively and I wonder vaguely if I've said something wrong. "I'm really glad that you've become friends with Phil. I know he was worried about not fitting in at college and everything, and the fact that he's met someone who he gets along with as well as you, well...I'm glad he's happier there."

I feel vaguely like Phil's mistress for a second and get really strong vibes of jealousy radiating off Kimi. "Look, Kimi, nothing's going on between us, if that's where this is headed - "

She waves me off. "No, of course not. I know there isn't. I just..." she looks up at me and suddenly has dropped the mask and looks kind of vulnerable. "I just miss him. And I'm not having much of a good time here. I guess I'm jealous of you, but because you get to be around him and...well, I don't."

I sit back and try to look in her eyes, but her sunglasses are catching a bit of light and I can't see through them for a moment. "He talks about you all the time," I tell her.

It seems to be the right thing to say.

"Coffee, ladies?" Phil offers, as he and Tino return holding two cups each.

Kimi looks up at him as he approaches and an easy smile crosses her face.

Tino places my cup in front of me and I turn to look at him. As I watch him talk to Phil and Kimi, I realise I'm staring like he was before, but I'm not ashamed. And I realise that the time apart hasn't changed us too much. His hair's a bit longer and he's a little paler than he used to be but he's still Tino, the boy who I've been in love with for years, except now he's my boyfriend and I couldn't be happier.

And when I return to Los Angeles, I'll be happier than any time since I left Bahia Bay, because I know that he'll be thinking of me.

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Alright, I seem to be missing some sort of point to this story," Carver says. "Why are you getting cold feet?"

"Seems pretty obvious to me, dude," I tell him.

"Yeah, so your relationship didn't have the most stereotypical beginning. But hey, most don't. And you told him how you felt in the end, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, but..."

"So what's the problem?"

"I feel a bit...I dunno..."

"Well, think fast. You need to get over it, because there's a fair few people out there waiting to see you walk down that aisle."

I know this. And I know he loves me. So why is it bothering me so much that I'm going to take this last step...and become his wife?

"Did I ever tell you about the first time Tino and Kimi came and visted me and Phil?" I ask.

Carver rolls his eyes. "Is this some really bizarre therapy to soothe your nerves?"

"Maybe. Just humour me, will you?"

8---8

_please review._


	6. Return Trip

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN - Evidently this chapter was written quicker than Chapter 5 (which took years) but still longer than I'd have liked. Anyway, this is the end of the first "third" of Tertiary, covering Phil and Lor's first year in college. Not much to say about it except thanks for the reviews! They're always appreciated and desperately needed. As ever, I also need to thank Lord Malachite, who has vetted over this fic with me from day one and helped me from committing horrible crimes against characterisation. The Galaxy Theatre, where the gang go in this chapter, is inspired by two things: the Astor Theatre, which is near where I live and is one of Melbourne's most beautiful and underrated landmarks, and the Eels' song _Daisies of the Galaxy_, which is where the name and the flowerbed comes from. And I changed the name of the school: UCLA is a real place, so not as fun. SLAU (Southern Los Angeles University) is completely fictional, which is something I usually try to avoid, but hey - I'm making this up as I go here...

Disclaimer - Lor, Tino and Tish are the property of Disney. Phil, Kimi and Susie are property of Nickelodeon/KlaskyCsupo. Just to be safe: Genesis is a trademark of Sega, Bomberman is by Hudson and Street Fighter II is by Capcom.

--- Chapter VI ---  
**Return Trip  
**

College, many people will tell you, is an exciting place to be, full of fun stuff to do and hard subjects to study. There's never a dull moment, according to the brochures they send you and the tour guides they dump on you during O-Week.

They are lying. Through their teeth, all over the pages, they're lying - every last one of them.

It's nearly six-thirty on a Friday night. I've been off school for the last two and a half hours and I have nothing - _nothing_ - to do, leaving me sitting around listening to music and hanging upside down from my office chair, while carefully observing the sculpture on my desk.

I should probably explain the sculpture, actually. It's a teapot, albeit a fairly unpractical one, as it's made of papier-mch and felt and would probably fall very badly apart if gotten wet. It was given to me yesterday by Phil DeVille, and is one of his latest "series", which he hasn't entitled but that I've decided to dub "A Frustrated Student". His more recent efforts with his class-requirement art have been sub-par and his teacher recommended to him that he try "experimenting with the crafts" until he rediscover his muse. I don't know how well it's working but odd sculptures have been showing up everywhere lately so I'm assuming that it's not going very well.

Phil.

I reach behind me and fumble for my phone, which I dropped somewhere on the floor. He'd have to be out of his History of Art lecture by now - it either would have ended or he'd have skipped out early, anyway. Maybe he'll have an idea on something - _anything_ - to do.

The phone rings for a few tones before he answers. "It's you."

"No, it's you," I respond, rolling my eyes. "What are you up to?"

"Sweet bugger all. Want to head out and play some pool?"

I contemplate the idea, but it's quickly dismissed. "It's Friday night. We'll never get a table, so we'll just hang around at the bar. And I really don't feel like getting sloshed this evening."

"Alright...how about dinner? The Tower?"

I sigh. "Nice idea, but I already ate."

"You're a difficult person to please," he informs me. "How about you come over here and we have a Bomberman tournament?"

I smile. "Now that I can get behind."

8---8

"You clearly really suck at this," I inform Phil as my little yellow Bomberman all but dances on his evaporated corpse.

"Thanks for pointing that out," he deapdans, his grip on the controller tightening slightly. "I might never have worked it out, otherwise."

I'm aware that I probably shouldn't rub it in too much. After all, it's his couch that I've managed to kick him off of so he's sitting on the floor while I fully recline in comfort, it's his Genesis that I'm kicking his ass while playing and his coke and chips that I'm drinking and snacking on.

But I can't really help myself.

"You would think that you, who by your own admission have owned this game since you were four years old, would have had the time to practice and get sufficiently good to beat _me_, who has only minimal experience and am being a bit thrown by these weird-ass retro controller thingys, but then that may just be one of the great mysteries of life that we're always hearing about -"

"Alright, Bomberman fun is over," he cuts me off at last, sliding over to the machine to flick it off and remove the cartridge with a sharp - albeit respectful - yank. "As soon as I find my copy of Streeties you're going down."

I feel tempted to point out that, as I practically grew up in Funville, the odds on me losing a game of Street Fighter to him are pretty near slim and none, but I decide to stroke his ego a bit and let him enjoy the fantasy while it lasts. "Championship Edition?"

"Of course."

I take another sip of his coke. "So, how's the great art project coming along?"

He sighs as he roots around in his collection of cartridges. "Could be better," he says. "I still can't even come up with a basic concept for it, and it's frustrating the hell out of me."

He finally finds the game he was looking for and slots it into the machine before scooting back up to lean against the couch I'm reclining on. "When's it due?"

"Not until the end of the semester, but I have to have an abstract for it done by next Tuesday."

"Well, have you had _any _ideas?" I ask, picking Blanka as he chooses Ryu.

"A few," he says, almost reluctantly. "But they all stunk. I'm worried."

"You'll come up with something," I reassure him.

He fidgets a little uncomfortably. "But...what if I don't?"

I take my eyes off the screen for a second to look directly at him. This is a side of Phil I'd not seen before: up to now he'd always been kind of...I don't want to say immature, but...carefree, I guess. I didn't think he had it in him to stress about the future.

"What do you mean?" I ask, coming back to the TV just in time to watch him hurricane kick me across the screen. That'll teach me to be compassionate.

"I mean...what if I'm not meant to be an artist?" he asks. "I never really spent that much time on it while we were in high school - well, not as much as I should have - and maybe this was just a stupid idea."

"If it's what you want to do with your life, then you'll put in the work and you'll find a way." I want to pat him on the head but if I take my hand off the controller he'll wipe the floor with me in a heartbeat. "And even if you fail here, a lot of artists don't have university degrees, you know."

He sighs, and I like to think I've reassured him, but I know his body language far too well for that. But I decide to let it go and we fight on in relative silence. Until, that is, I've gotten him pinned against the corner and I'm about to electric shock him to death, when my phone rings.

I jump, startled, and he takes advantage and dragon punches me, finishing me off.

"If that's you who called me, I'm going to be very angry," I inform him as he does a small victory dance from his position on the floor.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and check the ID. "It's Tino!" I exclaim before my stomach sinks like a stone. Was I meant to call him? A nagging part of me feels like I probably was and I forgot. I answer it quickly as Phil rises and walks over to the kitchenette.

"Hey sweetie," Tino begins and I cringe a little.

"Alright, not that one either," I tell him.

I hear him sigh from the other end of the line. "Well, sooner or later I'll come up with one you like," he tells me. "Until then just get used to cringing a bit."

I roll my eyes. "Sorry, T. Was I meant to call you? I'm sorry I forgot."

"Actually you weren't, but if you want to feel guilty then by all means, go ahead." I hear a bit of laughter creep into his usual deadpan tone. "What are you up to?"

I lay back down on the couch as Phil walks back over with a cup of coffee in his hand. I gesture emphatically to try and ask 'where's mine', and he indicates the counter on the other side of the room.

I know what's going on here.

"I'm at Phil's, we're playing video games," I tell him.

"I hope you're kicking his ass."

I roll my eyes at Phil and stretch out on the couch quite pointedly, enjoying the satisfying feeling and sound of my knees and toes relaxing with a comforting 'crack'. "Of course. Or I was until you called."

"Sorry."

Phil simply shrugs in response and sits, leaning against the front of the couch, immediately underneath where I have laid my head. From here, the aroma of the coffee is inescapable, and the rat bastard even goes on to deliberately - never obviously, but deliberately nonetheless - wave his mug under my nose, so close I can feel the steam. "I'll live." I wonder if I can lunge in and steal it from him.

"So, you guys didn't have much in the way of plans tonight?"

"Nothing I'd call significant, no." I make my lunge, but he sees it coming a mile off and moves his mug rapidly out of the way. "What about you?" I wonder if I can keep him still while I get my mug from the counter.

"I was thinking about going out."

I test the waters by trying to subtly pin him with my foot, but this never even approaches working and he gives me a cocky, 'give it up' kind of grin. I just don't want to admit he's won - it might go to his head. "Yeah, where to?"

"This new place a friend was telling me about."

I take a deep breath and all but leap off the couch toward the counter, snatching the coffee and turning around to make the return trip, but before I'm even facing the right way again he's laid out on the couch with his mug on the floor and a smug grin on his face. I glare at him. "Sounds fun."

"That's what I'm hoping. Anyway, I've got to go for a minute - can I call you back later?"

"Of course," I inform him, not softening my gaze on iota. "I'll talk to you soon."

The line goes dead and I snap my phone shut. "You stole my seat."

"Actually, I would point out that it's _my_ couch, and -"

I hold my coffee threateningly over him. "You gonna give it up or am I going to have to make you?"

He looks a little apprehensive all of a sudden but never lets the confidence really waver. "You wouldn't dare."

I make overtones to pour it onto his crotch.

In a move so fast that I would have missed it if I blinked, he's sitting up ramrod straight at the far end of the couch, and I decide to settle for a partial victory rather than push too hard for the full one. I slip down into the other end and pick up my forgotten controller. "Best two out of three?"

8---8

I wake with a start when there's a knock on the door. This wouldn't be so bad except that it propels Phil forcefully from where he'd fallen asleep himself on my shoulder, sending him careening down to the floor with some force.

I wince in sympathy. "Sorry, dude."

He clambers up to his feet a little unsteadily, wiping sleep out of his eyes. "Why is it you're always trying to kill me?"

I smile. "Just a talent, I guess."

Another knock at the door reminds me why I woke up, but seeing as Phil's already on his feet I decide to let him answer it. Not that he seems entirely interested: he merely pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and calls out, "If you want to rob me, at least wait until I'm awake enough to make it a fair fight."

"Open the door, Phil!"

Phil and I exchange a quick - and somewhat surprised - look and he leaps toward the door as fast as his feet can carry him, unlocking it and yanking the door open so hard I'm kind of surprised he doesn't hit himself in the head.

Standing before him are Kimi and Tino, both looking far more alert than either Phil or I seem to be able to manage.

Kimi all but jumps through the door and into Phil's waiting arms, and he twirls her around with a massive grin on his face. I clamber up off the couch and walk - a bit more sedately on legs that are still half-asleep - over to Tino, who grins at me and pulls me in for a kiss.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, disbelief thick in my voice.

"I missed you, and I figured Kimi was feeling the same way about Phil, so I thought if you could visit us out of the blue, why couldn't we return the favour?"

I smile, and kiss him again. "I'm glad you did."

I turn to face Phil, where he's holding Kimi as they exchange a rather more extensive kiss than I really wanted to see. "Hey, innocent eyes here, people."

Phil pulls away somewhat reluctantly and rolls his eyes at me. "Then maybe you should head home, because I'd hate to expose you to something _really_ graphic."

I offer him a smile and nod. "I think that sounds like a plan, actually. See you guys tomorrow, huh?"

He nods and waves me exaggeratedly toward the door. I roll my eyes back at him but happily oblige.

8---8

I slide the key into the lock of my door but think twice before simply opening it. I turn back to Tino and put a hand on his chest. "You didn't give me any warning about this little visit, y'know."

He nods and looks at me as if he's not quite sure what the point of this observation was. "Yes, that would have ruined the surprise somewhat."

"Well, just remember that when you realize I haven't cleaned," I tell him.

He laughs, quietly, very aware that we're in a dormitory full of sleeping co-eds. "Yes, yes. I wasn't really expecting your habits in that regard to have changed a great deal since we all left home."

I narrow my eyes at him, but he knows its harmless, and dares a quick kiss to placate me. He's just lucky it works.

I push the door open and grope in the darkness for the light switch. When I finally do find it I look around and wince - my room really is pretty disgraceful. The one quiet point in the maelstrom of mess is the desk: it's completely devoid of material other than the unusual looking teapot, which mercifully distracts Tino while I grab some dirty laundry and stuff it in the hamper. He notices eventually that I'm trying to tidy around him, however, and rolls his eyes at me. "It's fine, Lor."

I smile and chuckle nervously. "I'm sorry. I've just never...y'know, had anyone - well, you - in my...room, before."

He looks at me with an expression I am unable to make heads or tails of, but it's a smile that's on his face, so that's something, at least.

"Music?" I ask, strolling across to the bookshelf on which my stereo is somewhat precariously perched. "My TV broke last month, so I'm afraid -"

"Music is fine," he says, still watching me with that funny expression on his face. It's starting to irritate me a little.

I press play, and a soft-enough-to-set-the-mood piano line picks up. I don't immediately recognise it which means I probably borrowed it from Phil. "Coffee?" I ask, feeling a sense of deja vu as a certain scene plays itself out in reverse.

"No, thanks," he says, but I wander over toward the kitchenette and start making one anyway - I still feel only half-awake after my brief unscheduled nap before and could definitely use a kick-start. "Lor?"

I turn to face him. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, watching me with a new expression, one that seems to suggest he's...worried, about something.

I nod. "I'm fine," I tell him, looking him in the eye as I say it to try and drive the point home. But then, after a few seconds, I feel my eyes start to dry out, and I realise that I have to remind myself to blink.

"Yeah, you look it," he says, before indicating the desk chair and my bed. "Look, sit down, let's talk, alright? I don't want my coming to surprise you to be something that causes you stress."

I sigh and slump into the chair, allowing him to take the bed. "It's not. I'm sorry - I really don't know why I'm so nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about, Lor, really." He grins at me. "It's just me."

And, I think, that's what I'm nervous about.

It's just me.

And him.

Alone, in my room, at night, together.

"It's just you," I repeat, slamming a facade of cool, confidence into place. "I know that," I assure him, before leaning across the distance between us and kissing him.

"Good," he says, kissing me in return. I feel everything slip away. It's fine.

It's just me.

And him.

Alone, in my room, at night, together...

8---8

I storm into the Caffe at about half-past ten, sleep deprived and moody for it. Alright - so the sleep wasn't the only reason I was in a less-than-stellar frame of mind. Last night did not qualify as one of the high points in my life, not by a long shot. In fact, it would be down there with the worst.

I immediately spot Phil at the Espresso Machine, and can instantly pick that he's not in much of a mood himself, slamming the pieces into place with a vengeance and making coffee-brewing an almost aggressive pastime. I stomp over and sit at the barstool immediately in front of his position.

"Hey," I grumble.

He glances over at me and his expression softens a bit. "Hey, Lor. I'll be right with you." He yanks a receipt from the printer and starts making a pot of tea after reading it. "Not that you don't look capable of grouching away to yourself for a bit."

I throw him a glare. "You're hardly the pinnacle of happiness this morning, either. Something happen?"

He shrugs as he swirls the milk on a latte with a final flourish before putting it on a tray, along with the pot of now-steeped tea. "Nothing major. Just - I guess I'm mostly just mad that Kimi's here and I couldn't wrangle the day off to spend with her."

There's more to it than that - I don't have to be a genius to work that out - but I sense that's all I'm going to get from him, so decide to drop it rather than pursue a dead end. "So where's she?"

"She headed out to suburbs, visit her folks and brother," he tells me. "So," he turns at last to give me his full attention, wiping down imaginary specks from the bench in front of him. "What's the matter?"

I groan. "Why does anything have to be the matter?"

He rolls his eyes. "Come on. You come in here in a flaming strop like that and just expect me to roll over and accept it? Not gonna happen, Lor. What happened? Did you and Tino have a fight?"

I feel myself blush bright red. "Not exactly..."

He narrows his eyes in a manner which suggests he's sensed mischief he can cause. "Alright, so if not a fight -"

"Look, when you and Kimi got together - " I struggle here for the words, and am suddenly put off even asking at all as a customer places their empty cup on the bench next to where I sit. I am at once very aware that I'm discussing this in public.

He must sense my reluctance as he pushes me onward. "When Kimi and I first got together..."

"Did you have problems with the..."

He raises an eyebrow. "With the..."

"Stop that!" I scold him, and he backs up with his hands out in front of him. "And if you're going to make fun of me, you could at least make me a coffee."

"I'm not making fun of you," he insists, but starts making me a coffee anyway. "Anyhow, you were saying."

I bury my head in my arms on the bench, trying to cover myself up and disappear. Not that it'll do any good - I know I need to have this conversation, there's no avoiding it now, but I can want to put it off for as long as possible, I guess.

"Did you guys, ever, y'know, struggle with the..."

He has a look of dawning realisation. "_Oh_," he utters. "With the -"

I desperately don't want him to say it out loud and so cut him off quite quickly. "Yes. That."

"So, what, he...couldn't?" he asks the question as if it physically pains him, his face screwing up.

I sigh. This is not going to be pleasant, but I have no-one else to turn to. Tish, maybe, but even then I don't think this is really her...area. "No. He could. He wanted to. I couldn't."

He has the decency to look quite taken aback by this. "You...couldn't."

I let out a muffled scream, absorbed by my arms and the bench, before finally raising my head and looking him in the eyes. "No, I couldn't. It was horrible."

"Well...do you know why?" he asks, not looking so awkward anymore.

"No! It was like the...I dunno, the first time I had driving lessons."

He looks at me curiously. "Alright, you're going to have to explain that."

"The first time I got behind the wheel of a car, I just - froze. I don't know why. I just sat there and felt the wheel in one hand, the gear stick in the other, and...I couldn't move. Like I was terrified that if I did, I would crash the car." I groan. "It's like that with what happened last night."

He places a cappuccino in front of me. "Alright. I can work with this," he assures me, although quite what he means I'm not sure. "So, you're saying that you...were going to go for a _drive_ with Tino, but the gearbox locked and you slammed on the brakes?"

I look at him incredulously, but he just has the gall to wink at me. He can't seriously mean what I think he means.

He gestures emphatically, to indicate that it's my turn to contribute to the conversation.

"...Yes..." I finally manage. "We were going to..." I brace myself for this, "go for a _drive_, but I couldn't."

He looks contemplative for a moment. "Well, what about when we were in Oakland? What's stopping you now that wasn't stopping you then?"

I groan, yet again, aware of how this is going to sound. "We didn't really...go for a drive, when we were in Oakland."

His eyebrows raise in shock. "Really?" I fit him with a glare that implies sudden death and his expression quickly flatlines. "I thought, well, when you guys went off on Saturday night -"

I wave him down. "Oh, no. We did...stuff, sure, I mean we..."

"Packed the car?"

I roll my eyes. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Yeah, but I'm starting to enjoy it anyway," he confesses. "So, anyway, go on. You had fun in Oakland but didn't...leave the carpark."

He's now giggling under his breath. I roll my eyes.

"No, we didn't." I admit. "So, how about you stop making fun of me and do the best-friend-advice thing now?"

He reigns himself in and adopts a thoughtful expression. "Look, what was the situation? All jokes aside."

"I dunno," I repeat. "I mean, I was there, he was there - we were there, _together_."

"Goo-goo-gajoob."

I look at him carefully. "What was that?"

He holds up a hand in a 'stop' motion. "Sorry, got carried away. You were saying."

"Well, it was just that I was suddenly very aware that it was _Tino_, and _me_, and that we were _us_. It's not something I've ever really contemplated before. And I guess I just got scared." I look up at him, slightly embarrassed, but he isn't laughing at me, or grinning, just watching me, with an earnest, serious expression on his face.

"That's perfectly understandable," he reassures me. "I mean...have you ever..." I can tell that he wants to say 'driven', but he leaves it and merely punctuates the sentence with a silence.

"No, I haven't," I admit, proudly unashamed.

He nods and just smiles at me. "It's a big thing, for a lot of people, anyway. I know some people who didn't think twice about it, of course, but that's always the case. I think you're just nervous because this is a major, irrevocable step away from friendship and into something...else. You'd feel like this way with Tino regardless of whether you had...before or not."

"You think so?" I ask, slightly unconvinced.

"Yes," he assures me. "I kind of went through the same thing with Kimi. You've just got to...well, have the confidence to let it go, I guess. It's just a matter of being willing to move on from your friendship and on to...whatever it is that comes next."

8----8

Tino and I meet Phil and Kimi outside The Galaxy Theatre at about 7.30pm, and I watch Tino's face light up in awe as we step into the foyer. The Galaxy, I should probably explain, is an ancient, heritage theatre, home of both stage and screen, lovingly maintained by its original owners until they were unable to afford it, at which point the university bought it and has kept it functioning ever since. The place is delightfully surreal, and Phil and I have made it a habit of coming here on Saturday nights and watching whatever films are on, lampooning the bad ones and enjoying the good.

"Is that a garden?" Tino asks, indicating the flourishing flowerbed in the courtyard, where daisies and lilies grow in abundance.

"This is an odd kind of theatre," I tell him.

"I'll say," Kimi agrees. Dressed up in what she described to me as her 'knock-Phil's-socks-off' clothes, she looks almost like a princess as she gazes up at the ceiling, where the lights are hanging from massive crystal chandeliers.

"So, what movie are we seeing?" Tino asks, dragging his gaze away from the surroundings to focus on me again.

"Uh...I dunno, actually. What's on tonight Phil?" I ask, turning to face him.

He grins. "Tonight, we will be treated to the deluxe reprinted version of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. It's a classic. Have you ever seen it?" Both Tino and I shake our heads. Phil nods and indicates Kimi. "She hasn't either. Which is absolutely criminal. So, ladies and gentleman, shall we?"

I nod and go to follow Tino and Kimi as they walk into the theatre, but Phil pulls me aside, calling to them, "We're just ducking over to the refreshments, okay? Grab us some good seats."

Kimi nods and she and Tino continue on, but Phil pulls me over to a spot near the drink fountain and stands me upright. "Alright, have you seen the way he's looking at you?!"

I look at him a bit apprehensively. "No, how?"

"Lor, he's...he's ready. How are you doing?"

I glare at him. "How do you _think_ I'm doing!? I'm nerve-wracked! I...I don't know _what_ I'm going to do!"

"You just have to make a decision. Just say to yourself, one way or the other, 'This is going to be what happens'. Don't focus on what's going to change. Focus on what's already different, or what's happened since you guys first kissed. You're happy now, right? Happy you're together," he clarifies.

"Of course - "

"Then remember that." He sighs. "Look, when Kimi and I first..." he rolls his eyes, "drove, it was a big thing for us. I was her best friend's ex, we had been friends for ages, and the first time it wasn't...well, it wasn't very good, let's just leave it at that."

I'm tempted to try and get him to elaborate anyway, but decide to leave well enough alone. "But..."

"But we kept at it," he tells me. "Because in the end, it was what we both really wanted, and we wanted it badly enough that it transcends all those fears and insecurities. Maybe some people don't have these problems, these insecurities. Maybe they just fall straight into that kind of relationship, and it just all feels natural. But trust me: you're not alone in having to work at it. We're not the only ones."

And like that, I feel all my fears melting away, under the comforting warmth of his friendly words. "I really lucked out with you, didn't I?"

He pulls back slightly, looking around him as if trying to work out who that was directed at. "I beg your pardon?"

"With you. I really got lucky to have someone like you as my best friend, to help me through all this stuff."

He blushes slightly and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. "I - uh...well -"

And then he stops. And looks at me.

"You think of me as your best friend?"

I replay the last few seconds of conversation in my head and realise that I did, indeed, refer to him as my best friend.

And that's probably because he is. Ever since day one of college, he's been there for me. In some, strange, two-worlds-colliding kind of way, we've helped each other through this first year of university, and I feel closer to him than any of my friends - maybe because of the constant contact, maybe because we share so many similar interests, maybe because we've both gone into this strange and occasionally frightening new world without anyone else.

"Yeah, I do."

He just looks at me for a moment, and smiles. "Come on, I guess we'd better actually get some refreshments. You want a choc-top?"

8---8

This time I open the door to my dorm room without pausing to warn him that it's a mess - he already knows, and he doesn't care. Besides, I did clean up a bit this morning. That's just common courtesy, and contrary to popular belief, I actually do have some of that instilled in me. Probably by Tish.

This time I don't feel the need to rush around the room doing anything and everything, and instead - while I do flick the stereo on and this time an acoustic guitar picks up the mood - I just kiss him, and I don't feel self-conscious or worried or anything like that.

He breaks the kiss slowly, and brushes my hair out of my eyes. "Well, this is a far cry from last night," he murmurs, though there's no real need to be quiet.

"I know, I'm sorry," I tell him. "I didn't mean to..." I trail off, searching for the right words.

But he doesn't seem to need to hear them, just kissing me instead, his hands in my hair, his lips on mine, and his body against me.

"I want to..." I tell him, without really breaking apart. I just say it against his lips. I feel him gulp in that kind-of-adorable way he has always done since we were kids, and he pulls back to look at me, not looking critical or surprised or any such thing but merely in awe.

"Really?"

I nod. "I want us to...go on. To whatever's next."

I know what I mean, I just hope he does too.

And he does. I know it.

We're _us_. And I don't think I've ever been happier in my life.

8---8

The next day is tinged with a slight sadness and regret. And an ache.

Alright, so, yeah - it was nice. It was perfect. But it still hurt.

And then he and Kimi had to leave, and that hurt even more.

There's an ominous looking bunch of storm clouds on the northern horizon, which have all but blocked out the sun by mid-afternoon, leaving SLAU shrouded in darkness, which somewhat matches my mood.

Standing by Kimi's car as she and Phil hug I notice that Phil still doesn't quite look like his usual cheery self. Part of me thinks its probably just because Kimi's leaving, but another part of me isn't quite so sure. I hope nothing is wrong between the two of them - part of the whole best friends thing is hoping that he can be at least as happy as I am.

"So, when are you going to come visit me again?" Tino asks, his arms around my waist as we say goodbye. I find it difficult to want to let go of him.

"As soon as possible," I assure him. Long distance relationships suck.

"Amen to that," he offers, kissing me gently on the lips. Everything we've shared this weekend comes rushing back to me, and its beautiful in my mind.

"Come on, Tino," Kimi calls from the other side of the car, where she stands waiting at the drivers seat door. Ill take first shift, but we really should get out of here if were going to beat that storm.

He turns and nods, acknowledging her, before turning back to me. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Me too," I tell him.

When they finally do leave, the first drops of rain are beginning to fall and Phil and I stand together in the carpark and watch the car disappear off into the distance. The road off-campus is winding and we quickly see them disappear, but we remain standing there anyway, Phil leaning on his own car and me just watching the road where they've disappeared off to.

Then I feel Phil take and squeeze my hand, as he says, "It gets easier."

"I hope so," I tell him.

We stand in companionable silence for another few moments, before he asks, "So, what do you think for the rest of the weekend?"

I turn and shrug. "I dunno. I still owe you another whupping at Bomberman."

"Yeah, yeah. Wait until I find my copy of Micro Machines, then I'll really show you how its done"

We laugh as we stroll out of the carpark, toward his dorm where coffee and shelter from what is quickly increasing rain awaits.

**reviews would be hugely appreciated, please!**


	7. Come Dance With Me

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

Author's Note: This is the next chapter of Tertiary, sort of commencing the second "third" of the story, about Phil, Lor, Tino and Kimi's second year of university. These four will definitely be the major characters still, however, in coming chapters there will be appearances from the AGU cast as well, and probably some more Weekenders stuff as well. I thank all readers for their patience as this story crawls out.

Disclaimer – the characters contained within are the property of KlaskyCsupo and Disney Animation.

Dedicated – to Lord Malachite. I'm sorry about things. I'll try to be around a bit more.

---  
Chapter 7:  
Come Dance With Me  
---

"Alright, so you're crazy. You had a really nice weekend. I am still failing to see the point here, Lor."

I sigh and brush my hair out of my eyes, gazing critically at myself in the mirror. All day long something about my appearance has been bothering me but I've been unable to work out what. "Yes, I'm crazy. No, I don't entirely understand my own point. Can you do me a favour?"

He shrugs in the mirror. "Sure, what do you need?"

"Can you go get – "

But before I can even finish the sentence, the door to the dressing room is flung open and we're joined by three rather ruffled looking bridesmaids. Tish leads the charge, slumping down into the seat next to Carver. "Alright, next time anyone has a wedding, there will be better seating charts! I am not going through this again!"

Kimi, coming up behind her, chuckles quietly, while Lil DeVille rolls her eyes. "Why they all felt the need to get here so early is beyond me anyway."

"How much longer do we have before it all actually starts, anyway?" Carver asks, rubbing his eyes.

"About half-an-hour," Kimi tells him.

"Awesome. I'm going to go peg out a seat from where I can check out all the beautiful women. Other than in here, of course," he throws a cocky smile toward Tish, but a quick glare from Kimi makes him change his tune pretty quickly, and he beats a hasty retreat.

"Alright, it's a good thing you're here," I tell them after Carver has departed. "I was about to call an emergency bridesmaid's meeting."

"What about?" Lil asks, but within seconds the colour has drained completely from her face. "You aren't getting cold feet are you?"

"She is," Tish tells her, "but she wouldn't want us here if she was just going to run out."

I throw a glare at her, but she's right. This is partly to do with my nervousness, it's all part of the same issue, just finding different and innovative ways of dealing with it.

"I'm not running out on my wedding," I stress to them. "I'm just thinking a lot about it." I watch their reactions in the mirror. I'm beginning to feel oddly attached to this mirror – there's a lot going on in it, it's almost like I'm watching strangers converse and move and live their lives - albeit in fancy dress. "It's a really important day, you know."

My three bridesmaids exchange glances which suggest this was news to them, and I glower disapprovingly before Kimi gives me a whack on the back of the head. "You look like the grumpiest bride I've ever seen, honestly."

I roll my eyes but determinedly avoid looking like I'm angry. "Anyway, it's a really important day. A bit of a one-off. And I know I said that I didn't want to wear a dress...but, y'know, this day needs to be really memorable. For both him and me. And I think, maybe – " Before I finish the sentence, I turn away from the mirror sharply and fix a ready stare on Tish. "You have to promise not to squeal in delight."

She bites her lip but says, "Okay, I promise."

I run a hand through my hair, causing Kimi to groan in exasperation as I undo a fair bit of work. "In the luggage we packed for the honeymoon, there's a dress bag with a dark blue gown in it – Tish, you promised not to squeal!"

But Tish was already most of the way out the door, ignoring my objections entirely and happily expressing her delight verbally. I roll my eyes again.

"If you keep making that face, it'll stick that way, you know," Lil tells me. "Sorry if I seem to be missing something, but what's the deal with this dress, anyway?"

Kimi all but swoons and half-strides, half-stumbles over to start fixing my hair. "Ah, the dress. You haven't been told about the dress?"

Lil quirks an eyebrow. "Should I have?"

Kimi nods. "It's _the _dress. I imagine one of the cornerstones of this whole relationship is that dress."

"I suspect you're right," I admit.

"So, tell me about it," Lil insists.

I sigh, and realise that I really am going to spend a lot of time telling stories today.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I take a deep breath as I step out of my room. I feel utterly ridiculous – much as I know it's a necessity for tonight, this kind of clothing just isn't really me, I don't think. But I step out into the lounge regardless, hoping that they at least don't laugh.

I'm in for a treat. Kimi, looking every bit the part in her scarlet ball gown, carries this look off a million times better than I think I'll ever manage. Phil cuts a very dashing look in his suit, black with dark blue trim to match my dress for the competition. They were muttering quietly between themselves, about what I have no idea, because they fall instantly silent at my grand –

8 - * - * - * - 8

"You can't start the story from there!"

I look at Kimi incredulously. "What!?"

"You can't start the story there, it's right near the end! What about how it led to that!? Why you were even going to the ball in the first place! You need to do the background work, you know!"

"Well, if you're so determined, you tell it then," I suggest.

"Alright – "

8 - * - * - * - 8

I groan under the weight of the single bag of clothes which seems to be all my boyfriend owns. Sure, it's heavy, but still. _One bag of clothes_. Wouldn't last me a week, but then that may well be the difference between genders talking. "I still don't like it."

Said boyfriend comes in behind me, only his eyes and hair visible over the stack of boxes, all labelled 'CDs', that he is struggling with. "You're still being paranoid."

"I just don't think it's appropriate for people of opposite genders to live together. Unless they're in a relationship, I mean."

"Well, thankfully, I am in a relationship," he assures me. "So is she. We are just going to be roommates. It just makes paying for year two of college a bit easier. That's all there is to it."

I slump down onto his bed, the first thing we moved in – I say we, rather it was he and Tino, who lugged it in this morning – and drop the bag at my feet. "I just...you guys are close."

"Yeah, Kimi, we're close. But it's totally platonic." He places the box of CDs in the corner next to a bookshelf where I know he will shortly arrange them, by alphabetical or chronological or autobiographical or whatever the current filing system is. "It's not like I'm moving in with Susie or something, hey? Just Lor."

"Yeah, just Lor. I can see what's going to happen, you know. You're going to fall in love with her, and leave me, and – "

8 - * - * - * - 8

"You didn't really say that!" I finally cut her off.

This time Kimi is the one to roll her eyes. "Well, maybe not those exact words, but it _was_ the gist."

"Anyway, this is a very early start to the story," I tell her. "The connection isn't exactly thick."

"It's all relevant. If you let me continue with the story –"

"Alright. But _I'm _telling it. It's my wedding day and if anyone gets to tell stories that paint me in a questionable light then it's me."

"And the best man," Lil adds.

8 - * - * - * - 8

The apartment is beginning to take shape around me, and I feel...happy, I guess, about it. Leaving the dorm is kind of sad, but this place is already beginning to feel more like a real home than the dorm rooms ever did. No more communal facilities, no more paper thin walls, and _space_ - real _space_ – is something to rejoice over. My room is already finished, and now we're just finishing putting together the lounge room while Phil and Kimi get his stuff sorted. One of the first things he unpacked was his stereo – he says he inherited it from his Dad, it's all vintage eighties and stuff – and the lounge room is already rocking to the sounds of the Beatles' self-titled, with _Helter Skelter_ almost assured to get us complaints on our first day in the building.

I bring four glasses of water out to the lounge and rest them on the wooden box which is serving as our erstwhile coffee table. I bring one over to where Tino is sorting my CDs on to shelves.

"I've gotta ask," he says, " what's with all the CDs named 'Lor'?"

I glance at the large stack he has just assembled, each in cases labelled 'Lor .01' through to 'Lor .09'.

"Phil's giving me 'education' in music," I tell him. "Trying to broaden my musical horizons."

"They needed broadening," Phil says as he cuts through the living room carrying an easel toward his room. "Chum Bukkit indeed."

I share a grin with him before he ducks back into his room, where an upset sounding Kim is talking to him in a quiet but determined undertone.

"Is everything okay with them?" Tino asks, evidently concerned, but I wave him off.

"Nah, I'm sure they're fine." I take a sip of water as I flick through my increasing collection of music. No sooner are the words out of my mouth, however, before I hear a muffled scream from Phil's room. Tino and I exchange a quick, very startled look, and bolt from the living room into the bedroom.

A box of books lies scattered on the floor, while Phil cradles his left arm delicately, crouching on the floor. Kimi is leaning over him, trying to look at the arm while trying not to move it. "What happened?" Tino asks.

"I tripped and dropped the books," Phil mutters, clutching at his arm defensively. "It hurts."

"Is it broken?" Kimi asks, looking extremely worried. Whatever they were fighting about – and despite my assurances to Tino, I have no doubt they were fighting – it seems to have fled from here mind, replaced with concern and tenderness.

"I doubt it," he mutters. "Just hurts."

"Could be sprained," I tell him. "Let's get you to the doctors."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"I remember him telling me about that when I got back from Chicago later that summer," Lil reminisces.

"You should be thankful you weren't there for the worst of it. It was just a sprain but he had to promise not to do anything too strenuous on his wrist. Including painting," Kimi tells her.

"He's right handed," she points out.

"Yeah, but he paints with the left," I tell her. "I don't quite know why and he never properly explained."

"Alright, so how does this relate to the dress?"

"I'm getting to that," I tell her.

8 - * - * - * - 8

"He's starting to drive me nuts," Kimi confesses to me.

She's resting on the kitchen bench, a glass of water in hand and a defeated expression on her face. I can empathise: he's starting to drive me nuts too. Currently playing Monopoly with Tino, he's been moping around the house saying that he wants to paint for days, but that was one of the activities that the doctor said was "expressly forbidden". He had supplied me and Kimi with a list, under the assumption (slightly misguided) that we could control him.

"We need to get him out of the house," I suggest, nudging her to the side so I can stash the plates from lunch in the cupboard. "Any suggestions?"

Kimi shrugs. "I dunno. Anything happening on campus during the summer?"

I arch a questioning eyebrow. "Do we really want to drag him to school? He'll just say he gets enough of it when he's not on holidays."

"There's gotta be _some_ kind of fun activity we could drag him into that wouldn't damage his wrist, surely," Kimi says, rooting around in a pile of paper on the bench. I know what she's looking for and where it is, producing it from a magazine rack on the floor next to dining table.

"I dunno," I say, opening the campus paper. "There's a videogame contest."

"I don't think we need him being competitive at this point. The Monopoly was dangerous enough." She looks over my shoulder as I steal the water glass from her hand and take a sip. "How about that?"

We'll have to get a new copy of the paper, as in my incredulous reaction I manage to spray water all over it.

8---8

"I'm not doing this," Phil tells us, attempting clearly to leave no room for argument, but I'm having none of it, and by this point, neither is Kimi.

"We are doing this whether you want to or not," I tell him. "You sprained your wrist, the world has not ended. You need to get out of the house and we're going to get you out of it if we have to tie you up and drag you."

He looks at me in disbelief. "Yeah, but _here_!?"

"What's wrong with this?" Kimi questions him.

But I have to admit she has a point. Of all the things we might have been doing with our day, I don't think dancing lessons were up there on the list. But it was all that seemed to be on, so here we are.

"I think it could be fun," Tino says, optimistically. "I mean, it's something we can all do but that none of us know how, so we can at least have fun learning together – "

"Tell me," Phil cuts him off, "do you ever stop being so optimistic?"

Tino grins at him. "Only when my glass is less than half-full."

Phil rolls his eyes, but sighs with an apparent feeling of inevitable defeat. "Alright, alright. So, we might as well get this over with."

Kimi and I share a victorious smile and know that we've hooked him. "Come on," she says, taking him by his uninjured arm. "The sign-up sheet is over this way."

8---8

Our dance instructor proves to be one Mrs. Haridas, a near-painfully upbeat woman of about fifty with a thick Mediterranean accent. She lacks a partner but dances through the class anyway, correcting us and telling stories about students in the past, explaining how dances came to be, trying to engage our interest. Aside from the four of us, there are twelve other people in the class: more than I would expect for an on-campus activity in the thick of summer.

For this first class, we are not being taught anything as strenuous as actual dancing, but rather basic technique – which has thus far largely consisted of me trying hard not to tread on Tino's feet. At least Tino is being a good sport about it.

Phil, his still-bandaged left wrist dangling behind Kimi's back rather than holding her tightly as he was instructed (Mrs. Haridas having told him she'll make an exception but wants a better showing as soon as he's fully healed) has a smile on his face at least, laughing privately at something Kimi has apparently just told him. It seems our little quest to get him out of the flat is doing some good.

"They look like they're having fun," Tino says, evidently watching the same couple I am. "It's good. She's always kind of...I dunno – distant, I think, at school."

I raise an eyebrow. Though of course I know that they go to the same university, I never really consider the fact that Tino and Kimi might be friends with each other there. "I didn't know you guys saw much of each other."

"Not a lot," he says, "we're in separate faculties so our classes don't cross over much. But we catch up every now and then for a cup of coffee and stuff. And of course, you don't drive from Oakland to LA with someone without getting to know them reasonably well."

I can certainly get along with that.

We begin practicing a basic waltz toward the end of class, and I decide that this shouldn't really be a summer activity unless they're willing to spring for a room with air-conditioning. But though I'm sweaty and a bit tired – who knew even slow-dancing could be so strenuous? – I can honestly say I've enjoyed myself, and I think I'm starting to get a certain knack for this.

More importantly, Phil seems to have forgotten about his stifled creativity and is smiling broadly, telling jokes to the class and dancing up a storm with Kimi, much to Mrs. Haridas' delight.

We're all getting ready to leave – I ease my feet out of the shoes we've been loaned for the purposes of these lessons with a relieved groan – when Mrs. Haridas approaches the four of us with a stack of papers. "I hope I'll see you all for our full-time classes in the fall?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Well, the summer classes are really just a taster – you're welcome to come to them all, of course, and I hope you have fun," she assures us, "but we do a full extra-curricular course here. I've been trying to recruit students – if you'd be interested..."

She leaves the question dangling, but Tino is quick to burst her bubble. "Sorry, but Kimi and I here go to California Arts in Oakland. It'd be a bit of a stiff commute for class."

Haridas nods sympathetically before turning to Phil and I. "Well...how about you two? I take it this would not be your preferred partnership – "

"Only because I don't want her to break all my toes," Phil says, throwing me a cocky grin.

I roll my eyes at him. "I was getting a lot better by the end, you know. I didn't step on your toes at all in the last few minutes, did I sweetie?" I ask Tino, turning to him with pleading eyes.

He mouths 'sweetie?' at me with an incredulous look on his face. Alright, so the pet name thing still needs a bit of work. "Not for the last few minutes no. In fact, for that whole last song, I think all my toes survived in tact."

I turn to Phil with a look of triumph, but he just smirks. "Which proves Tino's survival instinct is solid. It only took him an hour and half and he learnt how to dodge."

I whack Phil over the back of the head with the dance shoes. "We'll be here," I tell Mrs. Haridas, "with bells on."

Phil chuckles but agrees, and Tino laughs. "I'm sorry, but the idea of you two dancing...I'm not sure if I would pay good money to see it or if I'm glad I'm going to be half-a-state away."

Kimi is putting on her street shoes, and does smile at this comment, but...I can't quite work out what it is, but the temperature and mood of the room seems to have dropped sharply in the last few seconds. She's not saying anything, but it's not at all hard to read the fact that she was less than thrilled with what had just happened.

"Looks like we'll have to get lessons ourselves," she says, clocking Tino on the shoulder. "Gotta keep up with these two."

Tino nods, a tight grin on his face. "We'll have a dance off."

Phil laughs, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes: he's watching Kimi and I think he's seen whatever it is that caught my eye as well. "I think that sounds like a plan," he agrees.

At this, Kimi chuckles, and then suddenly all is well again – the tension is broken, we're just a bunch of friends having fun.

Any other thoughts beside having a good time slip from my mind as we leave the hall, my hand linked with Tino's and Phil's arm around a receptive Kimi's shoulder, laughing, joking –

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Was I really like that?" Kimi interrupts, inspecting her work on my hair in the mirror. "I didn't think I was that obvious or anything."

I shrug. "Maybe I'm colouring it with retrospect."

Lil is enraptured by this tale, which surprises me, as I thought she would have known it. I express this thought to her.

"Well, yes, but to hear it from this perspective is certainly something different. Kimi and Phil's versions vary wildly. Not in the facts, just the commentary," she tells us.

Kimi and I share a grin in the mirror. It says something about how close we've become that this story can be told without any problem, that we're so comfortable about a period of our lives where she thought I was chasing after her boyfriend. She was justified, I guess – wrong, but justified.

The door bursts open, with Tish warding off some of my brothers. "Stop stressing," she says. "Do you think she would even fit in this bag?"

I roll my eyes. "Does _everyone_ think I'm going to run out on this wedding?"

Kimi pats my head. "I don't," she says, in a slightly mocking tone of voice.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"We know you're not going to run out on the wedding. Now get into the dress, okay?" Tish encourages me. Her eyes are gleaming with the idea of getting me into formal wear. "I only ever saw the photos of the ball – I want to see what you actually look like in this thing."

"The ball, the ball!" Lil exclaims. "I take it we're still an age off actually getting to the ball? I mean, I know you looked hot in the dress and all that, but why is the dress so vital?"

"Alright, alright," I acquiesce. "I'll keep going."

8 - * - * - * - 8

Please review – It's driving me onward.


	8. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN – Another chapter. This one was written in the open air, by hand (and while typing this in I realize why everyone tells me I need to improve my handwriting) at my favourite café in Melbourne. It was very therapeutic and I really enjoyed writing it. It is very much the "crossover" chapter as Lor's story branches out into a trip to the home of the Rugrats. I hope you like it. Please review.

Disclaimer – characters contained within are property of KlaskyCsupo and Disney Animation.

- - - -  
Chapter 8  
**Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere  
**- - - -

The car seems to almost grind to a halt as we pull up outside the house. It seems so small, so unassuming. Sure, it's double-storied, but I somehow envisioned something so much...larger, more over-the-top, to have produced the Phil DeVille I've come to know.

"Home sweet home," Phil quips, looking out the window, but not turning off the ignition. I suspect this is less out of any serious desire to not go inside and moreso a desire to hear the end of the song currently on the car CD-player.

I decide to rib him a little nevertheless. "So, afraid they're gonna ground you for not visiting more often?"

He doesn't turn to face me but I can see him roll his eyes. "I just knew bringing you along was guaranteed to be a good idea."

I reach out and pat him on the shoulder. "It will be. Wait until I eventually drag you out to Bahia Bay. You'll never know what hit you."

A final crash of drums concludes the song and Phil turns the key with admirable timing. He sighs before getting out of the car, and while he thinks I'm not looking gives his wrist a quick massage. He says it's not been bothering him (he refused to let me drive, saying it would just be babying him), but I know better.

"Thanks for coming with me, anyway. I can't wait for you to meet everyone."

I consider, for a moment, what the best way to respond to that might be. I suspect that something along the lines of: _of course, no worries, I can't wait either_ is what he's actually expecting, but it's not really the answer I want to give. To be honest, I'm scared witless. These people I'm meeting today are his family and friends – a very tight knit bunch but all accounts, and I'm not really sure how you break into that. Or even if I really want to. I've already met Lil and Kimi, obviously, but the others are just pictures in photos and voices in my mind. It intimidates me a bit. I feel like I'm meeting my boyfriend's family.

I laugh a little at that though. At least that's something I don't really have to worry about. I already know Tin's family, small as it is. And his friends are my friends anyway.

_This shouldn't be so scary. They're just my best friend's childhood friends and his family. It's just a summer day, and we've decided to go meet up with them. This isn't intimidating._

_It isn't._

_Really._

"Of course," I hear myself say. "No problem. I can't wait to meet them, either."

8- - - - -8

The one who hates me the most, I can tell straight off, is Tommy Pickles.

We finally ventured into his house, where we were greeted by Lil and an imposingly tall and seemingly eternally youthful woman whom Phil introduced me to as his mother, Betty. Betty initially seemed to eye me a bit suspiciously, before I got into a discussion with her about caber tossing, a subject upon which she jumped with gusto.

When Phil and Lil eventually extricated me from their mother's grasp, we walked to the Java, an establishment I gather was much like the Pizza Place for us, but with the added benefit of being owned by Kimi's parents, so therefore heavily discounted. It is at the Java Lava that I met Tommy Pickles.

"Lor," Phil says to me, "this is Tommy Pickles, one of my best friends. Tommy, this is Lor McQuarrie."

He hasn't even said anything yet and I can already tell that he's not keen on the idea of me being here. There's a look in his eyes that makes me feel like I'm intruding on something private, like I've stumbled onto his turf. I wonder if Kimi has said something about me to him.

8- * - * -8

"Hey!" Kimi objects loudly.

"Kimi," Lil says, in a come-off-it tone.

"Oh, alright. But I _didn't_ say anything to him," she insists, before slumping in her chair.

"I know," I soothe her.

"And I already _know_ this story," Lil states. "I thought we were talking about the relevance of this dress and the ball."

"We are," Kimi tells her. "It's a bit far afield, but it ties in."

"And besides – _I _don't know this story," Tish cuts in. "So, continue…"

8- * - * -8

"So you're Tommy," I manage, holding out my hand to shake his. "Phil says you're a director."

He nods and shakes my hand, obviously reluctant but trying not to show it. "Yes. And what are you studying?"

"Journalism," I tell him. "Just decided on that as my major, but hey, better late than never, right? And I think I can pass that. Better than creative writing, anyway."

My god. I'm babbling. I _hate_ babbling. When other people do it, it drives me nuts. I hate to think that I've fallen victim to one of my own pet hates. This guy just makes me so...tense, and when tense, I get nervous. And when nervous, apparently, I babble.

But then I feel a firm hand on my shoulder and all the tension just oozes out of me. I look to my side where Phil is smirking at me. "You alright there, Ginger?"

I smile. "All good, Fred."

Lil rolls her eyes. "Real original."

"There's a reason it's a classic," Phil points out.

The door to what appears to be a back room opens and Kimi appears, leading out the most painfully messy head of red hair I think I've ever seen in my life. Attached to it is a young man, with a slightly worried look on his face. I can easily imagine this being his default expression, and recognize him from photos as Chuckie Finster, Kimi's big brother.

He spots me, too, and a flash of some kind of recognition crosses his face. He covers it quickly with a polite smile. "Hi, I'm Chuckie."

I stride forward to shake his hand and it is only at this point that I realize Phil's hand is still on my shoulder. It slips away but thankfully the tension that had been plaguing me does not return. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Lor McQuarrie."

Chuckie nods before shooting a glance at Tommy. I still can't shake the feeling that Tommy would rather I weren't here, but everyone else seems happy enough.

Phil crosses the room to Kimi's side where he sweeps her into his arms in an exaggerated dip. "Oh, my darling, it's been too long."

Kimi rolls her eyes. "I saw you yesterday, bozo."

Phil, despite the ridiculousness of his pose, manages nonetheless to look affronted. "And that is not too long ago fro you? Oh my poor darling! Have you become so accustomed to my absence that –"

She lets out a defeated groan before kissing him, pushing them back to a standing position.

Over the course of this summer I have seen them together. A lot. It always amazes me how little they seem to have to work at this kind of thing. Their whole relationship – when they're together, at least – seems to come so easily to them.

I envy that.

I, however, am apparently unique in that respect. Lil makes a face, Chuckie shies away from the sight and Tommy says, "Ew. There are innocents in here, y'know."

"Lor's seen us kiss hundreds of times," Phil points out, finally breaking away from Kimi to face his accuser. "And you, my friend, are hardly what I'd call 'innocent'."

Tommy makes a noise I can only describe as a 'grump'. "Where's Dil when you need him?"

Lil, apparently feeling we're getting somewhat off-topic, deftly imposes herself between Phil and Tommy, but faces me. "So, Lor. How are you enjoying your little excursion to our neck of the woods?"

I imagine I must turn as red as a traffic light with all the attention suddenly refocusing on me. "Uh…well, it's really nice. I can see why you all loved growing up here so much." My eyes flicker around the group as they stand before me. Lil offers me an easy smile. Phil's happier than I've seen him in some time, surrounded by all his friends instead of just one or two at a time. Chuckie is smiling at me, but there's something behind it I can't quite name, while Tommy is all but glowering. Kimi's expression I know well enough to etch in stone, a mix of jealousy, happiness and uncertainty. "Phil and Kimi have told me so much about you that I feel like I know you all already."

The door swings open, seemingly of its own accord. We all stare at it for a second before hearing something that sounds a lot like a person yelling "Aiy-yai-yah-hah-yah" getting ever closer. Finally the noise reconciles itself to a young man who seems to suddenly appear in our midst, actually swinging through the open door on a long, green vine. This strikes me as wildly inappropriate for the middle of a suburban street, but I'm nothing if not adaptable.

I don't even need to try to match the new face to a photograph. "And you must be Dil."

8- - - -8

A day out with Phil's friends proves to be one of the most exhausting of my life. It puts things into a sad sense of perspective. I don't think we did anything that Tino, Tish, Carver and I wouldn't have done on a normal Saturday, but nonetheless I find myself utterly wiped out by the activities. Which means, sadly, I think I'm just getting old.

We end up back at the Java Lava at a little after five in the afternoon. From there everyone goes their separate ways, agreeing to meet up at a little after seven and head out the Arcade – my hopes had leapt that we'd be going and enjoying stiff competition on a little bit of Streeties, but Phil broke it to me that what had been an amusement arcade was now a nightclub that had – somewhat misleadingly – kept the name.

But hey, I'm up for anything. And it's been a _fun_ day. Given me a great deal of insight into Phil as a person, that's for sure.

Dinner with Phil's family – and Kimi – proves an interesting experience. Phil's mother keeps trying to talk to me about fitness, his father keeps asking me if the food is okay, and Lil seems to be struggling to keep a straight face. She ends up being the one I converse with the most, as we share a fairly surprising amount in common.

After dinner, I find myself dragged – bodily – up to Lil's room. It's not quite as girly as I'd expected.

"Can I help you?" I ask, massaging my own shoulder where she seemingly wrenched my arm from my socket while rushing me up here.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm going to help _you_." She flings open her closet but shakes her head in something resembling defeat, before moving to a suitcase at the end of her bed and rooting around in it. "We can't have you going to the Arcade wearing _that_."

I am slightly affronted by this comment. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing, if you're playing basketball and shopping and…well, everything we did today. But you're all sweaty and just…not right for going out." She pulls something I can't immediately identify from her bag and tosses it on the bed, but immediately opens a second case and starts rooting through that as well.

I sigh. "I'm not wearing a dress."

She pauses in her search and looks me up and down critically. "What about a skirt?"

I throw her a glare but she just shrugs. "I don't do skirts _or_ dresses."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it." She holds up two blouses far fancier than anything I've owned in my life. "Are you interested in my brother?"

I almost, _almost_ say 'the left one', before I catch myself. "Am I _what_!?"

"I asked you if you are interested in my brother." She pushes the two shirts forward again. "Which one do you prefer?"

"I'm _not_ interested in your brother. He is in a very happy relationship with someone I consider a friend." I pause. "The one on the right."

Lil quirks an eyebrow. "Really. That's why you're not interested."

I am puzzled by her question for a second before her meaning dawns on me. "I thought not wanting him because _I'm _in a relationship was obvious."

Lil clicks her tongue. "You'd look better in the other one."

I frown at her disapprovingly. "What brought this line of questioning on, anyway?"

She shrugs. "I'm just not sure what kind of shirt you look best in."

I groan in barely repressed frustration. "Not that. Phil."

She smirks at me, and I notice it is perfectly identical to the expression I've seen on Phil's face so. Many. Times. "Nothing. Just…wondering."

"Yeah, well, knock it off. I get enough of that kind of – " I decide to accentuate this bit with air-quotes, "'wondering' from Kimi. No matter how obvious things are to the contrary." I catch the blouse Lil tosses to me. "Can't two people just be _friends_ in this day and age?"

"We'll see," Lil says, keeping the other top for herself.

8- * - * - *8

"You asked her that!?" Kimi exclaims.

"Duh," Lil drawls, "I wasn't blind, y'know."

"You guys are hardly encouraging," I tell them.

8- * - * - *8

I let Lil talk me into wearing a skirt, albeit very reluctantly. I feel like an idiot, but I guess I just look like…well, a girl.

I'm not the only one, either. Kimi is in a very pretty, somewhat 'retro' dress that I wouldn't be able to carry off in a million years. Lil I swearing a similar outfit to me but seems to carry herself much better in it. Or maybe she's just a bit better…filled out than I am. I glance down at my feet and frown, sure that the girls I'm socializing with probably can't see theirs.

Phil waves to me from the bar and I pick my way around the dance floor. He is standing there with Chuckie and a tall, waif-like girl whom I don't immediately recognize, though there is something naggingly familiar about her.

"Lor, this is Angelica Pickles."

Angelica flashes me an uncomfortably predatory grin. "Charmed."

I respond somewhat cautiously. Of all the people I've met thus far today, Angelica is the only one I'm unable to read. I can't tell what she thinks of me at all. "Nice to meet you too." This close up I can see a certain resemblance to Dil around the cheekbones and Tommy in her eyes.

Phil turns to Angelica. "Is Susie coming?"

"Yes. But she didn't say when. Just that she'd meet us here." Angelica shrugs. "Which, with her, could mean anything. She was trying to record something when I left."

"Probably won't be here until dawn, then," Chuckie comments.

"Bummer," Phil says. "Oh well."

I concur. I'm quite curious to meet Susie, Phil's great first love. Tommy aside, this has been an intriguing sort of afternoon, putting faces to the names I've heard so many stories about. I can hardly wait now to take Phil to Bahia Bay and introduce him to everyone there.

I shared this thought with him earlier in the afternoon, to which he responded, "Sure. I'll bring my crew and you bring your crew and we'll rumble. But I tell you, us Jets never say die."

I hit him over the head.

The band who had been occupying the stage at the head of the dance floor, playing some utterly unmemorable music, bid the crowd goodnight and begin to pack up. Coming up over the PA is some much better music.

Phil nudges me as we are joined by the others. "They're playing our song," he says.

I smile. For our fourth dance lesson, we had been asked to bring "one piece of 'contemporary' music with _some_ sort of beat." Phil, naturally, had _agonized _over our choice of song for days before finally making his selection. So, while our classmates had filled the room with – and made us dance to – endless works from the Ministry of Sound and Sneaky Sound System and Bob Sinclair and the like – Phil and I had contributed Tom Petty and the Heartbreaker's 'Learning to Fly'.

Mrs. Hardias had wept tears of relief.

"Your song?" Kimi asks.

"Our dance song," Phil explains. "We had to learn a dance to go to it."

"You guys are taking _dancing_ lessons?" Angelica asks, somewhat incredulously. "I've seen DeVille dance. It's not pretty. Didn't Susie have to lead at the prom?"

Phil pokes his tongue out at her. "You're just jealous we upstaged you."

Angelica gasps. "You did no such thing."

"So, do we get to _see_ this dance, or what?"

I realize at about the same time as everyone else that we've been joined by a new voice: a tall, African-American girl has snuck up behind Angelica and I'm obviously not the only one startled by it: Angelica sloshes her drink and Dil jumps.

I recognize her instantly from Phil's photos, most notably one of him and her in formal wear, smiling broadly, his arms around her.

Susie Carmichael.

"Oh, we couldn't do it now. The song is almost over," Phil objects, leaning over to the newcomer and kissing her on the cheek.

I note, with slight disappointment, that Kimi's face bears no mask of jealousy or worry that is so frequent when Phil shows _me _affection.

I very nearly growl in frustration. Why is it that she's so determined not to trust me?! Does she think that little of me that I would betray my relasionship with Tino and chase after _her_ boyfriend? Even if I was attracted to him – and while he's not someone I'd say no to a hurry, I've not so much as had a dirty dream about him – the fact is that I'm in a loving, _monogamous _relationship, and so is _he_, and I would not betray either Tino or Kimi.

"Easily enough fixed," Susie says, raising a hand toward the control booth. The music stops, and as she gestures, it starts again. "Good thing about performing here is getting in with the DJ." There are a few confused sounds from people on the dance-floor, but by and large no-one seems to complain. "Now," she turns to us, "can I see what you guys have been learning?"

My eyes scan the group critically. Tommy, staring at Lil, seems for once not to care. Chuckie looks intrigued, Susie curious, and Lil is smirking again. Angelica looks like someone with trouble to cause, but it's Kimi whose expression sticks with me: she looks unhappy with the idea, all but glaring at me.

8- * - * - *8

"I was?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," Lil says, beating me to it.

8- * - * - *8

Phil is just holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

I take it.

We've missed the intro but pick it up in the first verse, as I hear Phil count off under his breath before we start moving.

I didn't enjoy organized sports throughout our first year of university. I tried several – volleyball, netball, basketball, soccer, running, anything I could squeeze into the uniform for – but I never like my teammates, the organizers, the venues – there was always something indefinably _wrong_ about it. Playing basketball and the like with Phil and some classmates certainly kept me in shape, but I missed the structure and inventiveness of real, competitive sport.

Dancing has been a boon in that regard. Though I don't view it as a sport, it has given me physical techniques to learn, people to be surrounded by, and though I know it's not the point, a fun sense of competitiveness, with myself and Phil trying to best the other couples.

Our technique for 'Learning to Fly' – what Mrs. Haridas as describes as our "summer climax, darlings," which had Phil and I in fits of hushed giggles – is pretty basic – we've only been going for six weeks, after all. But we've got it pretty close to down pat. I don't even step on his toes anymore. Well, almost.

Things are going fine as we approach the percussion/guitar solo bit, when I feel Phil take a deep breath and hear him start counting again – before hauling back and spinning me. This is the bit we messed up the most and I lost count of the number of times I ended up on my ass from a mistimed spin – or more frequently a missed catch. I see him and our audience watching – I learnt the hard way not to close my eyes at this point, and had a stiff elbow for a week where I ran into a wall – he's looking determined and in the brief glimpse of the others, all I can see is Susie beaming. Before I know it I'm back in his arms for a split second before he dips me, then hauls me back up and we resume a more normal dance pattern.

Mrs. Haridas would be proud.

We complete the dance without incident after this, and I feel my body sag in relief. He wraps me up in a hug and laughs.

Polite applause comes from our audience and Phil steers me toward them, still giddy and flushed from our triumph. The music finally moves on to a new song – 'Still in Love' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (proud of me, Phil?) – but the last one is still ringing in my ears. We did it. We conquered the song, the dance, and I didn't hit the wall or the ground once.

Angelica shrugs. "Yeah. So?"

8- - - - -8

We end up back at Phil and Lil's house after the Arcade's staff begin kicking everyone out. I ask Lil if their parents are going to mind the late-night invasion, but she assures me that it's a tradition and they're used to it. Nevertheless, we're confined to the ground-floor as part of a long standing compromise.

Within minutes of our arrival, Dil has broken out an Uno deck and a game begins. For the whole day, really, I've felt very much like a scientist or something observing the sacred rituals of a long lost tribe of island people, or something. But it's during the game that I finally get sucked in to the group as a whole. I find myself laughing, joking, enjoying myself…joining in with this group of friends, who have intimidated me so much all day. Even Kimi and Tommy have their guards down now, no longer seeming agitated but laughing at my jokes and exchanging banter like old friends. I don't think is as much a reaction to me as it is to the situation, but it's an improvement regardless.

Some time later, I'm on my way back from the bathroom when I pass a painting in the hall, which almost seems to call me back for a closer look. Part of me instantly knows it must be Phil's – it's his home after all – but I struggle to relate it to the rest of his art that I've seen.

It's a beautiful study of light and shade and – though I don't pick it at first – the absence of lines, instead of showing form. It is quickly identifiable as Susie Carmichael, gazing off into the middle distance through hooded eyes, her form graceful and sweeping through the picture.

"I think the lineless thing is to do with having no limits," a voice says from behind me. Much like last time, I jump, startled.

"Damn, you're good at sneaking up on people," I tell her.

Susie shrugs. "You have to be, living with Angelica." She points to the painting. "He painted me a few times, but that was the last, after we broke up. He has this thing where he doesn't view himself as good enough for things: university, art, relationships. He saw himself as a bit of a shackle on me, which – I think – is why this painting is so…free."

I nod. "He's very self-deprecating."

"And what about you?"

I look up at her. "What about me?"

"Do you think you're good enough?"

"For what?"

"Anything."

The question gives me pause. Part of me wants to rebel at this very personal question being asked by this practical stranger, but something about Susie just begs for, rather than demands, honesty, so I'm inclined to tell her.

"I don't know yet," I tell her.

"Good answer," she tells me. "You worry a surprising amount. It's written all over your face."

I sigh. "Phil warned me about you, y'know."

She grins at me, flashing perfectly dazzling teeth. "You've definitely made quite the impression around here today. Opinions are divided."

I quirk an eyebrow and try – and fail – to sound completely blasé. "Oh?"

She reads me like a book, but ploughs on regardless. "Kimi is hugely insecure about Phil and other women in general, so don't take it personally. Lil thinks you're great, but is worried that her brother is going to fall for you, and just doesn't want to see anyone get hurt. Chuckie likes you but tension unsettles him, and Angelica just sees you as a new opportunity to cause trouble. Tommy doesn't like _any _newcomer to the group." She sighs. "He's really nice once he accepts you – which he's starting to – but he's always been surprisingly resistant to change."

I try to take all this in but it's a lot of information to be bombarded with in the space of thirty seconds. "And what do you think?"

She smirks. "A lot of things."

I roll my eyes. "About me."

"I knew what you meant." She begins to lead me away from the painting and back toward the lounge, but we make a quick course change and end up in the kitchen, where she starts digging around for a saucepan. "You know one thing I miss about Phil?"

A double-dozen candidates run through my mind, varying from romantic to somewhat pornographic. "No, what?"

"His cooking," she says, pulling out a giant pot triumphantly. "He was always _really_ good at that."

"He is very good," I agree, having only really learnt that since we recently moved in together.

She reaches into the fridge and retrieves a three-litre bottle of milk and a block of milk chocolate. She pours the milk into the pot and lights the stove. I watch with an quiet interest, looking at her in a new light: Phil has always referred to her as this brilliant creature who he connected with in a very unique way, which has, I guess, blocked me from thinking about her just as a regular person.

"What was it like, being his girlfriend?" I hear myself ask.

She looks over at me, with an eyebrow raised in surprise, but doesn't comment on my question. Instead, she just answers it. "It was really great, actually. Not ever destined to be a long term thing, I don't think – well, obviously, really - but it was…nice. We've all been friends since childhood, but it was while we were in high school that Phil and I fell in with the same crowd. I was a musician, he was a painter, we kind of started hanging out together with all the 'art' kids." She looks wistful for a moment, remembering old times. "He was just so…free, and fun, and that was something I think I'd forgotten about, especially as the end of high school got nearer and nearer. Then one afternoon, after school had let out, we were hanging out in the Art Cottage…"

The look on her face becomes positively _rapturous_.

"But anyway, we knew it would never last. But we were good for each other – he made me relax and feel…worshipped, which is never a bad thing. And I guess I kicked his ass into gear and got him to pass everything, which I like to think helped him to get to where he is today. I think I also gave him the confidence to go after Kimi."

"And he gave you the confidence to go after what _you _wanted?" I ask.

She grins. "Oh yeah."

As she starts breaking the chocolate up into the saucepan, my mobile rings, surprising me slightly. Part of me wonders who could be calling me at this hour of the night, but then I look out the window and see the sun rising not that far off, indicating that it's a _lot_ later than I thought.

The caller ID says "Tino" and I feel a trickle of guilt through my guts. I was meant to call him when I got home last night. But I guess I never did.

I answer. "Hey, T."

"Hey," he says, sounding blessedly neutral. "I was getting kind of worried."

I sigh. "Sorry, man. We're still at Phil and Lil's – we didn't get in until really late."

"We?" he asks, sounding now a little worried.

"Yeah, all of Phil's friends are here," I tell him. "Kimi and Lil and everybody."

"Did you have fun?"

"I did, actually," I say. "It's been an experience."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I wish you'd called me."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "Time just got away from me, I guess."

"I worry," he tells me, somewhat unnecessarily. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, Tino," I remind him, using his full name for emphasis. "But I can take care of myself, y'know."

There's silence for a moment, before another sigh. "I miss you."

I ache for him, a little. "I miss you too."

"You sound tired, Lor. I'll call you back later, if you want."

Part of me wants to say that no, I'll talk to him now, don't call back later, but then I realize that I don't really have anything to say to him right now. This concerns me – I've never had the desire to not talk to him before, and it worries me that I might be happier leaving it until later. Technically I've got so much to tell him – about all the people I met, about dancing with Phil, about the Java Lava – but I can't quite find a way to tell him when I know he doesn't really want to know about Phil, but about me.

"Okay, maybe that's a good idea," I agree. "I'll call you back when I've gotten some rest."

"Okay. I love you."

I breathe deeply. "I love you too."

There's a beep, and the phone goes silent.

Susie is looking at me with concern in her eyes, but doesn't say a word.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, yet again, and turn to see Phil with a grin on his face. "We were wondering where you two got to. Is that hot chocolate, Suse?"

Her face instantly morphs into a smile and she nods. "Yes. But don't shout it out or they'll all want some."

Phil isn't listening, though, instead turning me around with a hand on my other shoulder. "You all right there, Ginger?"

I consider, for a moment, all the things I want to say to this. What he wants to hear is, _All good, Fred_, but I don't know if that's what I want to say. I am not quite sure what is going on between me and my boyfriend. I am trying to convince everyone I know that I have no sexual interest in my best friend. I am trying to be proud that my dancing is coming along so well. I am tired, and I want to sleep, but I also don't want to stop having a great time with these people. I want to say all these things, but I don't.

"All good, Fred," I tell him, bringing a smile to my face.

8- * - * - *8

"Alright. Another bit of the puzzle falls into place," Tish says. "Why didn't you tell me you and Tino were fighting that early?"

"We weren't fighting," I tell her. "It was just…just stupid stuff. End of the fireworks stuff. Besides, you know we got back together in the end."

"Yeah. I know," she says. "But that's what led to the ball?"

"Pretty much…yeah…"

8- * - * - * -8

_To be continued. Please review._


	9. Top Five Songs For A Break Up pt1

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

Author's Note – It continues…again, this has all been hand-written, which is why it is taking so long, but it's nice to be able to sit out in the sun and write for a change now that the weather is nice. Anyway, this is only part one of this chapter – part two will follow soon. It turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated. I've really got to reign these things back in.

Disclaimer – the characters contained within are property of KlaskyCsupo and Disney. The book _High Fidelity_ was written by Nick Hornby and published by Penguin.

Chapter 9  
**Top 5 Songs For A Break Up - ****Part One**

It became quickly apparent during our second year that we were the only ones among our friends who had moved into our own domain – away from dorms, away from parents, masters of our own castle. A small, three-bed one-bath castle, admittedly, but it is _ours_, as long as we make rent. And thanks to my job at the video store and Phil's at the Caffé, we have done so far.

What makes it a more interesting experience is that, clearly, no-one wants to stay at their parents and submit to _rules_ when they could "crash on Lor and Phil's couch", so we have been entertaining quite a few guests these days.

At least one weekend out of every four finds Kimi and Tino visiting, having friends tape lectures and coming to spend time with us. I'd like to think that it shows strength in our relationship that Tino is coming to see me so often, but I'm worried it's more due to his insecurities about it.

Last year, we never really fought. We were still so new, so excited, still learning the ropes. We didn't really know _how_ to fight, I don't think. This year, we've learnt how. We've had them all, frome little tiffs to full on shouting matches, over things from forgetting to call to what to have for dinner. Phil assures me it's normal, but the idea of fighting with Tino gives me a bad taste in my mouth.

If there are three things that have defined this year, and I've listed the first two, then the third would be a book. That book, one _High Fidelity_ by Nick Hornby, was read by Phil over the space of forty-eight hours in mid-September, and by me over about a week immediately thereafter (at his insistence). Phil _loved_ the book for fairly obvious reasons: he related very strongly to the lead character and his love of music. I thought it was clever and thankfully didn't relate to any of the female characters at all.

The result of us reading the book is a newfound obsession with the term "Top 5". At least once a day, we find a top 5 to create and discuss. Phi has an easel with a sketchbook on it set up in the lounge room, next to the kitchen door, and though it's theoretically for sketches, in practice he's generally got some sort of top 5 on it by the time I finish breakfast, to which I then contribute, either finishing his or offering my own. And it has become a requirement of staying at our flat that everyone has to contribute, which has resulted in some interesting conversations/discussions/arguments/at least one outright fight. The top 5 undead films list Phil and Tommy assembled (Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later, Nosferatu, The Aftermath and The Child) was the result of at least a week's hard arguing and research, while Lil and I had a fun time trying to sort out five TV series that ended too soon (My So Called Life, Now and Then, Pushing Daisies, The Royals and Firefly).

As I stagger from my warm bed this morning – I think it may be Friday, which would mean no classes – I see the sketch book has already been contributed to – in Phil's messy (or as he defines it, 'arty') handwriting is a list reading "Top 5 Side One Track Ones". His list declares them to be _Rainy Day Women_, Bob Dylan, Blonde on Blonde; _What's Going On_, Marvin Gaye, What's Going On; _Wouldn't It Be Nice_, The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds; _Out on the Weekend_, Neil Young, Harvest; and _I Saw Her Standing There_, The Beatles, Please Please Me.

This top five frustrates me, because although it was in the book itself, and I have vague memories of coming up with my answer at the time I read it, I have now completely forgotten what they would be, so I simply stagger into the kitchen.

Where I am greeted by Tino's smiling face.

"I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away," he tells me, grinning broadly. Phil is frying eggs on the stove while KImi appears to be napping with her head on the dining table.

I wrap my arms around Tino's neck and kiss him, hard, letting a month of pent up frustrations and over-the-phone fights leak through and into the kiss. Though we made up from the last one, it doesn't really feel like it until we do _this _for the first time afterwards.

"Careful, you'll have someone's eye out" Kimi murmurs sleepily from the table, not even opening her eyes.

Phil casts a glance over her. "Early morning?"

Tino finally breaks away from me, shaking himself slightly, and I'm proud to see something of a 'wow' expression in his eyes. "Yeah, she drove the second leg while I had a nap. She really wanted to get here early and surprise you."

"Mission accomplished," Phil assures him. "I'm surprised Sleeping Beauty over there didn't wake up to my girlish shriek."

I poke my tongue out at him before turning my attention back to Tino. "A bit of a shock to me, too. We weren't expecting you guys until next week."

He shrugs. "I missed you."

Phil says, "Awww."

"_Test of Faith_, Chum Bukkit, Race Around the North," I announce, sitting down. "I'll need time on the other four."

Phil just shakes his head while dealing out back and eggs for all and some coffee that looks dangerously strong to those who dare. He shakes Kimi awake and she pounces on it.

"You're a god," she tells him, starting to come around a little. "My kitchen god."

One upside of this year is that, since summer ended, the amount of jealous static I've been getting from Kimi has steadily reduced to almost nothing at all. It's a blessing because I was getting well and truly sick of it.

Phil takes his place at the table, giving her a kiss on the cheek, before we all, by unspoken agreement, tuck in to breakfast.

"So what do you want to do today?" Tino asks, his mouth full of bacon and egg.

I roll my eyes. "Didn't your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

He grins. "With my Mom's cooking every bite could be your last. There was never any time to waste." He swallows.

I smile at that while Phil raises an eyebrow, but remains silent on this new topic of culinary skill and risk.

"I dunno what I want to do today," I tell him. "Phil and I were going to hit Neurosis and then just hang here – if you're up for that" I direct my question to both Tino and Kimi, who is coming more alive with every bite of food and every sip of nuclear coffee.

"Sounds good," she says. Tino just shrugs. He doesn't look…disappointed, per se, but I know that he's not entirely _pleased_.

8- - - -8

Neurosis Records is a place that Phil would not permit me to enter until a few months ago. He had told me that, as a musical novice, I would be eaten alive by the smarmy dicks who ran the place, though in Phil's eyes they were smarmy dicks in the nicest possible way. Neurosis is a small used-and-new record store on a side street near the uni and is therefore incredibly popular with art students, Phil among them – most of his musical purchases since I've known him have been made here, and he's clearly in his element, flicking through racks and shelves, looking for favourite artists, something that catches his eye, something new and unusual. It's no secret that this is where all his pay goes: aside from rent and food, the only things Phil spends his money on are CDs, records, and art supplies. If we hit the art shop on our way home, we could easily burn through a few hundred this afternoon alone.

Xavier, who runs the shop, is a complete and utter music snob and judges anyone who isn't, or doesn't know who played organ on _Like a Rolling Stone_, or what the first track on _White Light/White Heat_ is, which is why I didn't set foot in this store until recently. Phil has seen to it that I can now hold my own. The only reason that we've gotten away with bringing Tino and Kimi here is that it's delivery day and Xavier is nice and distracted.

"So, this is the famous Neurosis," Tino says, looking over my shoulder at the raft of vinyl I'm flicking through. "Find anything good?"

I shrug. "Dunno. Some of it looks kind of alright." A Simon Says bootleg catches my eye, but the price tag is a bit too steep for my tastes.

Tino looks a bit daunted by all the choice. "I don't think I'd even know where to start."

Kimi, apparently knowing better than to distract Phil in search mode, sidles on over to our little corner of the shop. "I'm glad there wasn't anywhere like this place nearby when we were in High School. We'd have never been able to keep him away."

I nod. "I can barely keep him away from here as it is."

The problem with my newfound status with Kimi is that I'm really not sure what to do with it, or what I should or can do now that we're more or less civil again. I'd love to know if someone sat her down and talked some sense into her, or if she finally came to work things out on her own, or whatever – but does this make us friends? Mutual friends? Acquaintances? I don't know.

When Phil shows up again with his haul for the day – a small one this afternoon, only one record and one CD – we head out into the street and 'couple off'. Phil and Kimi head toward the Artist's Quarter, and I'm tempted to follow them, but they need their alone time. I guess Tino and I need alone time as well, but for some reason it doesn't feel as urgent.

Instead, I lead him in the opposite direction, toward the mall. As we walk, I try to find the right question to ask him.

These silences didn't _used_ to be uncomfortable.

"How are your classes going?" I ask, for some reasons absolutely stumped for anything better.

He shrugs. "Not bad. I'm keeping up with my assignments. How about you? Enjoying journalism?"

"A bit," I tell him. I feel very much like we've had this conversation before. Which is because we have. Each time he comes here, we discuss school. The fun, learning things discussions are long behind us now: but they've been replaced by meaningless small talk. I decide, here and now, that I'm not going to let that keep happening.

"Actually, dance class is proving to be the best thing to do around here. Last week was so funny – do you remember Clarke, from when you came in the summer?"

He raises an eyebrow at the right-angled turn the conversation has just taken. "Not really, no."

"Oh." Well, so much for that.

Last time we fought was particularly bad. Not because we got especially loud or harsh or anything, but more because of what it was we fought over. Tino got stuck into me over decisions I'd made, ways I've behaved, things I'd done, and I returned fire, telling him that he was always making safe decisions and had no place to criticise me for being rash.

"Just because you're always thinking everything through doesn't make me impulsive. Live in the moment for once, T."

"You don't live in the moment, you live the moment after."

"You like that about me when we were younger. Why do you want me to _change_?"

"I had thought you'd get there on your own."

I slammed down the phone.

That fight had been the first time we fought about our personalities, rather than our opinion or circumstances. That wasn't a fight about what was going on around us, that was a fight about _us_.

He called me back and apologised a few days later. But we didn't actually _talk _about it, all this stuff that we'd fought about. It's hanging over us now, this fight that's just waiting to be taken off pause and put back on active status.

I settle on deciding to talk about it _later_.

I'm a wuss, I know.

The mall is full of distractions, thankfully. We look at clothes we'd never dream of actually buying, we look at comics Tino would desperately like to own and some sports gear that I wouldn't mind having but would never use anyway. He points out things we should buy, things we should avoid, and then points out a set of saucepans.

"What about them?" I ask.

"Do you think they look like a good choice?"

I've honestly never thought terribly deeply about saucepans before in my life. "I dunno. All saucepans kind of look alike to me. I'm more of a microwave sort of girl."

He shrugs. "I've been thinking about getting a set. I'll need some for when I get my own place, and seeing as it'll be half yours…"

An alarm goes off in my mind. "Half mine?"

"Well yeah. At the end of the next school year, we'll be finished with college…I just thought we'd end up living together, that's all."

The alarm _blares_. "Really."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah. Don't you think so?"

It had been the furthest thing from my mind, especially with this fight hanging over us. "I dunno. I guess I thought we'd be living together eventually. I just ahdn't thought so far ahead as to be making plans for it."

"Never too early," he says.

Apparently we aren't going to talk about this fight _at all_, and that concerns me quite a bit. More than I'd like to admit to Tino, at any rate.

Maybe he's right to be thinking like that, though. Maybe he's gotten past the fight, and I'm just dawdling by not doing the same. I'm obsessing about problems I should just be moving on from. It was a fight. Just a fight. All couples fight. Phil and Kimi. Susie and Angelica get stuck into each other and they're not even a real couple. Well, not yet, anyway, I still say that's just a matter of time. Tish once told me that she broke up with a guy because they _never fought_. I thought this sounded bizarre, but she assured me that it made a twisted sort of sense.

Nevertheless, I still want to talk to him about this. Just…later.

8- - - - -8

Friday afternoon passes by in an odd blur. I try to find a way to talk about anything meaningful, but I'm completely unable to bring myself to do so. For what is definitely not the first time in my life, I miss Tish more than I can possibly explain.

After the first fight I ever had with Tino, I rang Tish and cried to her for hours about how I didn't understand men, how I just wanted things to be easy, how I was going to rip…certain bits of his anatomy off, and so on and so on. She calmed me down somewhat and explained that it was not just Tino, all men were like this, and you just kind of got used to it. Last time we spoke, of course, she was very much on the other side of it:

"I hate men."

I had rolled my eyes, aware she couldn't see it but feeling the expression was important. "You don't _hate_ men. What did Peter do?"

"A lot of things," she tells me. "He's being so weird and distant and…guy like. And of course Carver's all over him like a rash, telling me I'm wasting my time and I should 'find someone better' and just _not_ helping –"

"Carver's trying to seduce you?" I ask, stunned by this latest development.

"Well don't sound so shocked," she says.

"Sorry. I just…well, what do you want to do?"

"Swear off boys and become a nun."

"Tish, you're Jewish."

"I'll convert."

I draw comfort at times like these in knowing that I'm far from being the only one out here with problems.

Friday night means dance lessons, to which Kimi and Tino obligingly tag along. Mrs. Haridas may be getting slightly old but her memory is clearly not suffering for it, as she instantly recognises both of them as "the lovely boy and girl from Oakland". Tino blushes, while Kimi just smiles and shakes her hand.

"Ah," she says, "but I'm afraid you will not be able to keep up with us? It's been a while, yes?"

Kimi just shrugs. "Never could keep up with these two anyway," she says, patting me on the shoulder and kissing Phil on the cheek. "We may just observe."

Mrs. Haridas laughs. "Oh, I think we'll find something you can manage," she tells her.

Kimi and Tino take seats to the side as we begin, however, watching as Mrs. Haridas talks us through a revision of the tango, which we first learnt some weeks ago.

Once we're out on the floor together, I take the opportunity to have a quiet word with Phil. Well, as quiet as the music will allow. "I think I need advice."

He pauses before answering, first spinning me and reeling me back in. "About what?"

"Tino wants to buy saucepans."

We go into a sharp dip, with Phil's face not so close to mine that I can't read the look of incredulity on his face. "Well, clearly he must be stopped."

As we pull back up, I smack him on the shoulder. "This is serious. One minute we're fighting, the next he's talking about us moving in together."

Phil stumbles slightly, but recovers with aplomb. "Moving in together? Like…now?"

I shake my head. "No, not now. When we graduate. I've just been caught somewhat by surprise I guess."

He recovers from his earlier shock and throws me a grin. "Well, I'm cool with it as long as you're not running out on me. I'm not paying rent on our place alone."

I roll my eyes at him. "Phil, be serious."

"I was!" he exclaims. The music ends, and we cease dancing and talking, except for Phil leaning over to say, "We're not done. I will talk to you, seriously."

I nod. "I know you will. Thanks."

We're joined for our next dance by Tino and Kimi at Mrs. Haridas' insistence ("You don't watch a dance class, my dears,") as we learn a new set of moves anyway. In dancing with Tino I'm actually able to appreciate how much I've improved: I don't feel nearly as clumsy as I did last time he was here, and he keeps dodging his feet out of the way where he's expecting mine to be, rather than where they actually are.

During a break a little later, Kimi and I are seated on the long bench running along the side of the hall. Phil and Tino have gone to get us some drinks, much needed as the hall is _not_ well ventilated and all the activity has us sweating profusely. As soon as they left, Kimi dragged me over to the seats and kicked off her borrowed dance shoes.

"How you guys do this every damn week is simply beyond me," she tells me, massaging her obviously aching feet. "I just don't have the energy anymore."

I shrug. "It's something to keep us occupied, I guess."

She looks at me carefully, as if not quite sure whether to say what she's actually got on her mind or not. "Is everything okay, Lor?"

During summer, I could barely get Kimi to stay in the same room as me. Since the end of summer – since, in fact, about a week after we went and visited Phil's family and friends – she has been increasingly civil and friendly and it's all caught me a bit off guard. And now, here she is offering a friendly ear to unburden myself on. And I'm damn tempted to take it.

"Ah…I dunno," I tell her. "Kind of. Just…relationship troubles."

"Are you and Tino fighting?" she asks.

I shrug. "No more than usual, I guess," I say, feeling unsure about how much I should share with her. "We kind of had a fight and now I'm not quite sure if we've resolved it or not."

She flinches. "Ugh. I hate it when that happens."

"It's happened to you?" I ask.

"Of course. It happens to everyone at some point. Just…try to resolve it. Sooner, rather than later."

I smile at her. "Thanks."

Tino and Phil reappear, drinks in hand, smiles on their faces, thought there is something slightly guarded about Phil's expression. "Hope we're not intruding on girly-time," Phil says.

"Just idle gossip," Kimi tells him, rising to kiss him on the cheek. "I think Tino and I should sit the next one out, though. We can barely keep up with you two."

At this, Kimi gives me a significant look, indicating with her head toward Phil. Apparently, she's got this worked out, and is okay with it. But she's right, I do need to talk to Phil, and it really does have to be him – there isn't anyone else that I'd trust with this kind of issue as much as Phil.

When we're back out on the dance floor, waltzing this time, Phil takes advantage of the closer positions to have a relatively private conversation with me. "You've got to talk to him," he tells me. "He told me you guys had been fighting. You need to resolve it."

I finally decide that I can't put it off any longer. Tish has told me this, Kimi has told me this, and now Phil is telling me this. I have to voice this little fear I have inside me. "What if we can't resolve it? What if it just blows up further?"

"Then you need to know that now, not later," he points out. "I don't think there's anything you can't fix if you try, but you've got to talk about it first."

"I know. I will talk to him. Later."

Phil looks doubtful, but nods anyway. "I'm here if you need me," he assures me.

"I know that too."

"Alright, people," Mrs. Haridas calls to us over the fading music. "Now, the last few months of lessons are going to be very important because coming up is our end of term ball, after all, and all couples are going to be expected to show us what they've learned. You need to prepare a piece _on your own_, though I'll be here to help you if you need it. Friends and family are welcome to attend."

8- - - - -8

After dancing, Phil suggests we take advantage of the early-spring weather and have a picnic dinner at our local park. It sounds like a nice idea, so we hit the supermarket on our way there. The boys go off to get utensils while Kimi and I head out to get meat. We're flicking through packs of sausages when Kimi finally turns to me with what can only be described as a determined look on her face.

"I'm sorry I was all…jealous toward you last summer," she tells me.

I'm aware that this conversation has been a very long time coming, and I desperately don't want to mess this up. "What do you mean?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "What do you think I am, stupid? I know you must have noticed it. I just wanted to say I was sorry."

I smile at her. "Thanks. You know I'm not interested in Phil, right?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, of course."

I feel like this response is ever so slightly inappropriate, but I decide it best to let issues lie.

"So, have you decided how you're going to approach talking to Tino yet?" she asks as we move into the fresh produce section, looking through potatoes and onions.

"What are we going to do with potatoes?" I ask. "No, I haven't quite worked it out yet."

"When Phil and I get into a fight, I always wait until we're in the bedroom before I bring it up," she tells me. "For one thing, he's more agreeable if he thinks there's an opportunity for sex. It's one of the basic tenets of the male gender. We're going to barbecue the potatoes."

She has a point. "You can barbecue potatoes?"

"Sure. Cut thin, soak in olive oil, and then whack them on the hot plate," she informs me. "Beautiful."

"I think I'll talk to him about it after dinner," I tell her. "I just wouldn't want to ruin the weekend before it's really begun."

She shrugs. "Whatever you think is best," she says, stuffing onions into one freezer bag and potatoes into another.

We circle around the back of the shop and find Phil and Tino overburdened with packs of plastic knives and forks, one relatively sharp looking knife, bottles of sauce, a pair of tongs, some ready-made-salads and paper plates.

Kimi shakes her head at the pair of them. "And neither of you thought to get a trolley - or a basket, even?"

Phil sighs. "Well, hindsight is always twenty-twenty."

8- - - - -8

The sun is just starting to set as we arrive in the park to find it mostly deserted. Phil and Kimi start cooking while I lead Tino over to the play equipment.

"What are we doing?" he asks.

"Enjoying the lovely weather and our eternal youth," I tell him, climbing up a set of monkey bars that are really far too small for me now, but I reach the top without incident and sit on the high-point, indicating to Tino that he should join me. As he clambers up, I take the opportunity to enjoy the view: the city, lit beautifully by the orange sky beyond, just now lighting up, while closer, I can see the campus coloured with students and even closer I can see Phil and Kimi trying to make the coin-operated barbecues work.

Tino finally makes it to the top with me. "Lovely view," he comments, easing his way down onto a relatively safe looking bit of metal.

"It is, isn't it?" I lean forward, as if this would take me closer to this wonderful vision. "I miss Bahia Bay and all…but this isn't so bad, really."

Tino smiles. "I know what you mean. It's not really as intimidating as it first appears. It's…like it's not as big as it looks. It's really lots of little towns and places, instead of just one big one."

I nod.

"Nice place to live," he says.

I sigh. There it is again: this whole thing about living conditions, about us living together, about _us_ moving on to new phases, while I seem stuck in the one we're already in. I watch Phil and Kimi – she's started chopping potatoes and onions on a cutting board while Phil is testing the temperature of the hotplate by throwing water on it. When he determines that it's sufficiently hot, he leans over and kisses Kimi softly before throwing the first of the meat onto the barbecue. Kimi watches him with a strange wistfulness in her eyes that I can't quite work out: she's happy but…sad, somehow.

Or maybe she's just in love with him.

"Tino, I think maybe we need to talk about some things," I tell him.

8- - - -8

chapter 9 pt.2 is coming soon. please review!


	10. Top Five Songs for A Break Up pt2

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

Authors Notes: Alright, this is inexcusably late...again. Hope you can forgive me, and I hope you enjoy it anyway. The ball is the next chapter, and will be coming up soon. I swear to you. Seriously. : ) Thank you all for sticking with this story so long, and special thanks to **Fletty **and **Brooke Summer Valentine **for the feedback and encouragement. Massive thanks to **Lord Malachite **for keeping me on track, as ever.

Disclaimer - characters contained within are property of Disney, KlaskyCsupo and related companies. No copyright infringement intended.

---  
Chapter 10  
**Top 5 Songs For A Break Up - Part Two  
**---

"Is that what you guys were doing up there? Fighting?" Kimi asks, seemingly happy with my hair again.

"We weren't fighting," I tell her, "just talking some things through."

"Which usually equates to some kind of fighting, even if it's just relatively politely phrased," Tish points out.

"It wasn't as bad as that," I tell them. "Not at first, anyway."

8 - 8 - 8 -

Tino looks a bit taken aback at what I've unloaded on him. I'd been right in my assumptions, he'd thought that this fight had already been over and done with and was not expecting me to bring it back up again. "Wow, Lor. I didn't realise that you were still feeling so strongly about this."

I sigh. "Tino, we said some pretty hurtful things to each other. It's not something I can really just…gloss over like that."

"I understand." His eyes have drifted off somewhere else entirely and he's clearly thinking all this through quite carefully. "I guess I just thought we'd kind of…fixed this already."

"I know," I say. "It's just been kind of…bothering me."

"I understand," he repeats. "Lor – I'm sorry for saying what I did. It was mean and said in the heat of the moment and…I'm sorry."

"I know," I say again, feeling a sense of déjà vu settle in on me as I lean my head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry too."

"Hey guys," Phil's voice comes from the barbecue. "Dinner."

Tino turns to look at me. "Is there anything else?"

I'm left with a nagging feeling that there indeed is something else, but I can't bring myself to say anything just as we've gotten to the point of all seeming so relatively happy. "No, we're good."

"Good," he says, climbing down off the play equipment. "Let's go eat then."

8- - - - -8

The next morning dawns cool but sunny. Tino is still completely dead to the world and I opt to just let him sleep, heading out into the kitchen for some breakfast. This morning's top 5 proclaims the best breakfast foods to be apricot jam, strawberry jam, marmalade, nutella and honey, though beneath this Kimi has written, _Why didn't you tell me we were out of milk?!_

After yesterday's sizzling skillet and joking visitors, this morning the kitchen seems dead silent. Phil is reading the Saturday paper while enjoying his marmalade on toast with black coffee, while Kimi looks doubtfully among the spreads before selecting the apricot jam.

"Morning," I manage through what feels like a wad of cotton in my mouth.

"Look who's up," Kimi quips, sitting down beside Phil and trying to steal bits of his newspaper. He rolls his eyes and passes her the sports section. "Where's the blonde stallion? You wear him out?"

"Hardly," I inform her. "We didn't even talk after we got into bed."

Phil exchanges a brief glance with her. "So you guys haven't sorted things out as hoped?"

I sit down and grab a piece of toast from the hot pad where Phil has stacked them, opting myself for the strawberry jam. "No, we talked it through. Things just aren't quite as sorted as maybe I hoped, that's all."

Kimi throws me a sympathetic glance. "If things are meant to work out, then they will. Don't worry."

For some reason, this statement only makes me worry more. I take a bit of my toast and try not to think about it. "What are you guys doing today?" I ask around a mouthful of jam.

"Dunno," Phil tells me. "We haven't got any plans. Though…" he leans across the table as if about to impart some deep secret, "we may have plans tonight, something we heard about at dance class yesterday."

I raise an eyebrow. "Alright, I'll bite. What?"

Phil laughs. "It's a surprise. Eat your breakfast."

"I hate surprises," I mutter.

I feel his breath on my neck before I even turn around, and he kisses the crown of my head. "Good morning," Tino says, squeezing my shoulder. "You should have woken me."

"You just looked too comfy," I tell him. "How was your sleep?"

He shrugs before pulling up a seat. "Comfy, I guess. You?"

"Hard to say. I was unconscious most of the time."

Tino rolls his eyes. "You're starting to sound like Phil."

Phil grins. "It's all part of a nefarious plan to clone myself."

"The world just became a scarier place," Kimi declares.

I spend Saturday largely in a blissful daze, lounging around the house with my boyfriend, my best friend and his girlfriend, watching cartoons and DVDs while Phil paints something he refuses to show us. We generally only get a glimpse of him when his head pops above the canvas to toss up a vaguely witty remark.

As the end of "The Lion King" appears on screen, I groan. "Someone has to get up and put another movie on," I tell my companions.

Kimi and Tino, busily engaged in a game of Monopoly which I long ago lost out of, turn to me disinterestedly. "Your turn, isn't it?" Kimi asks.

I groan. "I'll get the next round of drinks if one of you changes the DVD."

"Your turn to do that too," Tino points out.

Succumbing to the inevitable, I crawl across to the DVD player and grab a fresh movie to put on. "Top 5 animated Disney movies," I call out as I take out _The Lion King_ and replace it with _Peter Pan_.

There is a moment of silence. "_The Lion King_," Tino suggests.

Kimi shrugs. "_Mulan_."

"_Toy Story_ – " Tino begins.

"Pfft," Phil's voice interrupts. "Not Disney, not animated."

Tino raises a questioning eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"It's Pixar, not Disney, and it's _computer animated_. Totally different. Doesn't look half as good," Phil informs us. I've heard this rant before, when _Shrek_ was on at the Galaxy Theatre. He didn't have a good thing to say about it.

"Alright, what gets this Phil DeVille nod of approval, then?" Tino asks, turning away from the Monopoly board to face the back of Phil's canvas, Phil himself still hidden behind it.

"_Fantasia, Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Emperor's New Groove, Robin Hood _and _Sleeping Beauty_."

"_Sleeping Beauty_!?" Tino laughs. "Bit of a girly choice, isn't it?"

"Best looking film ever made, best fight scene in any animated film ever, one of the best classical scores in film history. Not _that_ girly," he states.

Tino rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say."

I decide to leave this battle of intellects alone and just kick back to watch the movie, though I have noted recently that the more Tino and I fight the less amicable Phil becomes toward him. Part of me worries about this, though another part of me finds it gratifying that I have a friend willing to get indignant on my behalf.

"What's the time?" Phil asks, apparently too absorbed in his art to look for himself.

"Five-thirty," Tino tells him, still sounding a touch miffed.

"Jeez, is it?" Kimi cries. "Can't believe the day has gone so fast. We should probably start getting ready."

"For what?" I ask.

"You'll find out soon enough. We're going out," Kimi tells me.

"Oh this stupid surprise!" I exclaim. "When are we going to find out what it is?"

"When it happens," Phil states.

Kimi collects up all her money and puts it in a rubber band, tucking it under a corner of the board. "This is _not_ over," she tells Tino, before clambering to her feet and holding out a hand to help me to mine. "Com on, Lor. Time to do the semi-girly thing."

I groan as my half-asleep legs protest the idea of getting up pretty fiercely. "We're not gonna make ourselves _pretty_ for whatever it is we're going to, are we?"

"Nah, they wouldn't notice anyway," she tells me.

Once we're out of earshot of Phil I lean in toward Kimi conspiratorially. "Alright, Tino can't hear us. So where are we going tonight?"

Kimi rolls her eyes. "Nice try, though."

"Dammit."

8 - - - - - 8

At a little after seven-thirty p.m., we find ourselves at a mid-sized bar calling itself Three Below for no readily explained reason. It's a very airy, open sort of place, somewhere that might be nice for relaxing and having a nice time with friends if not for the _terrible_ band in the corner doing some _atrocious _cover versions of already-not-very-good songs. It's just starting to darken outside and for this early on a Saturday night the place is starting to fill up.

"I know a lot of these people," I comment, trying to place the faces.

"Most of them are from dance class," Phil confirms. "Most of the rest are students."

"I'm guessing a show," Tino says, looking over at the band. "I'm hoping _after_ them."

"Very good," Kimi nods. "Un-announced gig tonight that we thought you guys might be into."

"Who?" I ask, not daring to hope it is who I think it might be.

"Chum Bukkit," Phil says, with a surprising lack of distaste for the first time since I've known him.

I shout in surprise and grab Phil around the neck, pulling him down into a hug. "Oh my god! You're awesome!"

"I like to think so," he says as he pulls back.

Tino seems excited beyond words. "I haven't been able to get to one of their shows in…well, years. This gonna be so awesome."

I nod enthusiastically. "When do they go on?"

"According to rumour, about 10pm. So we've got plenty of time to peg out good spots in the pit and get ready to rock out," Phil tells us. "Well, as much as anyone can rock out to _Chum Bukkit_. Jeez."

"I knew you couldn't resist," I tell him. "But well done. You lasted a solid twenty seconds."

"Hey. Thirty. At least."

- 8 - 8 - 8 - 8 -

"You guys went to an _unannounced Chum Bukkit show_!" Tish squeals. "And I was not informed _because_…"

"Because it was not exactly a stellar night. For anyone," Kimi tells her.

"To say the least," I agree, before continuing.

- 8 - 8 - 8 - 8 -

"I could use a drink," Phil announces, eyes scanning the room before picking out the actual bar itself, tucked away in a corner, far from the stage. "Anyone else want something?"

"I'll have 42, if they have it," Kimi says.

"Same for me," I agree, while Tin just asks for a beer. Phil nods and heads for the bar while the rest of us, by silent agreement, stake out a table from which to wait out the very uninspiring support act.

"Is Phil okay?" Tino asks, directing his question toward Kimi. "He seems a bit off today. Practically jumped down my throat over that Disney thing before."

Kimi shrugs. "He's in a bit of a funny mood, but he hasn't said anything either way."

I know _exactly _why Phil is acting strangely, or at least I think I do, and I'm not exactly about to volunteer this information. I suspect it would not go over terribly well.

We lounge out the period leading up to ten p.m. with rounds of drinks and bowls of hot chips. As the sun goes down outside and the bar's own lights begin to pick up, I feel myself getting psyched up for what I know is coming. Music has become something that I can lose myself in, and – despite Phil's thoughts on the subject – Chum Bukkit can still make me want to dance all night long like when we were 12.

Other members of dance class seem to filter through our table, and I've never felt more popular. They range from friends to…well, not. For instance, Clarke and Simone, who, did we happen to know, were homecoming king and queen and football captain and head cheerleader and just _sooo_ popular? Two years out of high school and you'd think that kind of stuff would start to not matter anymore but boy, not to hear them tell it. Simon bubbles and Tino and Phil, Clarke leers at me and Kimi and I slam back my vodka just for an excuse to leave the table and go to the bar.

As the night progresses, I feel myself letting go of the tension that has clouded me over the course of this weekend so far. My fight with Tino, Phil's leery mood this afternoon, Kimi's confusing behaviour and creeps from dance class inviting themselves over to _our _table thank you very much all evaporate under the anticipation of the forthcoming Chum Bukkit. And vodka. Lots of vodka.

I'm really only drinking vodka because Kimi is and beer is really the last thing that I want on a night like this. Beer would just get me drunk and we can't have that because I must remain 100% in control of all my faculties because I don't want to say anything wrong and there's **Chum Bukkit**, bitches! Woo!

For a second I fear I've said this aloud because everyone seems to be staring at me all of a sudden, but I can't have said it because I've still got a mouthful of vodka. I swallow. "What time is it?" I ask, carefully, almost unusually aware of the size of my tongue.

"It's 9.40," Tino tells me. "We should probably start thinking about heading stage-side."

Indeed, the band who had been slaughtering some old pop junk before are now roadies, setting up for the coming onslaught of Chum Bukkit. "Chum Bukkit! Woo!" I actually do vocalise this thought this time, flinging my arms up in the air for added effect and splashing my drink around. "Are we ready, bitches!!?"

Phil is watching me intently and Kimi raises an eyebrow, but Tino just sighs. Fucking sighs! At me! The nerve. The unmitigated nerve. Who is he to sigh at my exuberance?

"You guys go ahead," Phil says, "C'mon Lor, let's go for a walk in the fresh air."

"No," Tino says, putting a hand on Phil's wrist, stopping him. "You and Kimi get us spots. I'll take care of it."

I explode. "You'll take care of it?" I spit, "_you'll take care of it!?_ Am I an _it_ now? Some problem to be fixed?"

Tino goes slightly red but doesn't raise his voice. "Lor, I think we should – "

"We should what, T? We should talk? Do you have this conversation planned, T? Do you know what I'm going to say to your advice? Are you living in last week, _Tino_," I finally use his full name, and I feel it roll around in my mouth like it's far too long – "or in the moment before or the month after or whenever the fuck it is I'm not?"

Phil is itching to move, I can tell, but he clearly doesn't know what he'll do when he does. Kimi is just holding her face in her hands. But Tino hasn't move, not one inch, and is just standing there like some twitchy, reddening statue, an image of frustration, frozen in time.

"Lor," he says finally, "you're drunk."

"Well…yeah!" I exclaim. "What tipped you off? All the empties?"

"You don't know what you're –"

"I know _exactly_ what I'm saying," I tell him.

"Lor – " Phil begins, but he is almost immediately cut off as Chum Bukkit arrive on stage slightly earlier than anticipated, bashing out the opening chords to _I Remember Everything_ with everything cranked up to ten.

"Am I grown up enough for you yet!?" I scream at Tino, barely audible over the music, but he just turns and walks away, away from the band, away from Phil and Kimi, away from me, away from us, and I don't care. I'm not going to grow out of this, this being free, this living for the moment, because it's _who I am_ and I might be drunk but I know who I am and I think that's important.

With barely a look at Tino's retreating back, I fling myself into the mosh pit which has sprung up at barely a moment's notice. This is something I can deal with, not confusing like emotions, not frustrating like love, this is just people throwing themselves around in unison, diving up and down, this is something to which I can relate.

The band have barely a second of a break before the launch into a cover of _Dead Ringer For Love_ at three times the pace that all but blows the roof off the bar. I feel a pair of arms wrap themselves around me and someone dance suggestively against my back. I spin around to find Clarke, still leering and still smiling at me like he wants to eat me and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, I don't quite know what's happening with Tino right now – I don't know if he wants me for who I am or who I could be or whatever and I think that Clarke and I can really have something. He leans in to kiss me –

But I feel myself whisked away, another strong pair of arms wrapping themselves around my waist and yanking hard. "I don't think so, buddy."

Clarke growls. "Hey, DeVille! She's with me."

"Not tonight she's not, Clarke," Phil tells him lifting me up while I try to kick him, but now that I'm being pulled away from him Clarke doesn't seem quite so attractive an option anymore anyway.

"She's mine, Phil," he says. "What are you meant to be, her valiant defender?"

"No, that would be me," Kimi tells him, coming from nowhere to lift him off the floor with a solid punch. He goes sprawling while Kimi shakes her hand. "You got her, Phil?"

Most of the pit haven't even noticed, too absorbed in the Bukkit as they move on to _Test of Faith_. I try to dance but my feet don't seem to touch the ground, and I realise that I'm still in Phil's arms. I shrug and snuggle into him, deciding there are worse places to be.

"Yeah, come on. Let's go home."

8 - - - - - - 8

I open my eyes and immediately regret it. The lights in my room are dim but they may as well be stars for all it's doing to my head. I force myself to keep them open and I roll over to try and block out the light. On my bedside table are two blurry shapes that may be a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. Beyond them I can see a larger, blurrier shape that may be Kimi Finster who is watching me with a raised eyebrow.

"Good afternoon," she says.

My head explodes. "Oooh. Quieter. Quieter."

"Feeling a bit tender after last night?" she asks, much more quietly.

"Mmmm," I groan, shuffling across the bed to retrieve the headache medication and water. "It's all a bit blurry. But I remember yelling at Tino. And – " I groan again. "Did I kiss Clarke?"

"No. Not for lack of trying though," she tells me. "Are you up to talking with Tino? I'm guessing in your state you won't be yelling at all."

"Got that right," I tell her, swallowing the pills. "Yeah, I guess I better." I clamber out of the bed, slowly, holding the wall to keep me steady. Unfortunately this puts me in close proximity to my own underarm and I have to fight the urge to heave. "Maybe I'll have a shower first, though."

8 - - - - - - 8

When I stumble out into the lounge room, I notice appreciatively that the curtains have been drawn and the house is empty and, for once, silent. The Top 5 of the day is Songs for a Sunday Morning – _Sunday Morning Coming Down_ by Johnny Cash being the only one I recognise and definitely the one I most relate to, given the circumstances. I don't know where Phil and Kimi are, but a slight tapping coming from the dining table tells me that's where I'll find Tino.

When I finally brave entering the kitchen, he's sitting there waiting for me, not looking at the doorway he knows I'm standing in, just staring at the wall, a cup of coffee in hand that he is quietly tapping on the table, another left untouched that I assume is for me. I sigh. This is not going to be easy.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asks.

"I've been better," I admit, sitting down opposite him and picking up my coffee. "How are you?"

"I've been better as well," he tells me. "Last night was a bit…of an experience."

"That's one way of putting it," I tell him.

He finally looks me in the eye at last. "Do you remember what you said?"

"Bits of it," I tell him. "Enough to know what this is about."

"And?" he asks.

I shrug. "And what?"

"And...what happens now? Do you really feel that mad at me?" he asks, sounding hurt.

I sigh. "No, Tino. It's not that I'm mad at you..." I consider this for a second. "Well, I am a bit, I guess, but that's not what this is about so much. It's more about...how we came to be so mad at _each other_."

He raises an eyebrow. "What's that meant to mean?"

I sip from my coffee, mostly to give me a moment to think through what I'm about to say. "Tino, not a few weeks ago, you were yelling at me for being someone who lived their life all wrong, and then the day before yesterday you were talking about moving in together and buying saucepans. And we had no resolution in between. Do you realise how...weird that is?"

He blinks. "Well - "

"I just..." I cut him off. I don't know if I can get through this if I hear what he has to say. "I just think that we're getting into a bit of an odd place here. We have problems. And instead of trying to fix them, we throttled past them. I think we're scared of trying to fix them. Because the problems you have with me - that I don't think things through, that I'm not thinking enough about the future - they're things that are _me_. I'm doubt I'm going to grow up from here, Tino. This is who _I am_. And this is who you're in a relationship with. Last night was a stupid, stupid thing to do and I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for letting myself get carried away and shouting at you and getting drunk...it was just...awful. And unforgivable. I was angry and frustrated and...stupid."

He holds my gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "Yeah, well, so was I." He sighs. "Last night wasn't the problem, was it? Last night was the consequence."

I nod. "It was."

He slumps in his chair. "I meant what I said, ages ago. I thought you'd...change, somehow. I guess I did. I'm not the person I was, and I guess I thought it was something that everyone went through. I think about things like the future. And I just kind of assumed, since we got together, that you'd be part of them."

"I don't think I can think that far ahead, Tino," I tell him. "But it means a lot to me that you think we'd last."

His gaze turns to the ceiling. "Well, now I'm not quite so sure."

I nod again. "I know."

"So what happens now?" he asks.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. "Now...now you go back to Oakland."

"I do?" He meets my eyes again. "Is this it for us?"

I shrug. "I don't know. We hurt each other. We withdrew from each other. And it's been like this for a while. We're...we're different people, Tino. We're not the people we were in high school. And I think that what we're doing here is trying to hold on to something we felt for each other _then_, rather than be honest with what we feel about each other _now_." I get up from my seat and walk around the table, wrapping my arms around him and pressing a kiss to his crown. "I love you, Tino. But I think we have to go our separate ways. For now at least."

He reaches up and his fingertips ghost over my cheek. "I know."

8 - - - - - - 8

Our apartment building is arranged in a three storied square, facing out into a central courtyard bordered by a low wall in between support pillars, which are really more comfortable than they look, as I've discovered. I sit here, tucked into my corner of the courtyard, in my corner of the world, trying not to think about Tino, trying not to think if I did the right thing, trying not to think if we'll ever work it out. I hope we do. I doubt we can.

The sound of a throat clearing disturbs me from my musing. Phil is standing at the base of the stairwell leading to our floor, wearing his 'working clothes' - an old shirt several sizes to big practically coated in paint stains of every colour and texture in existence. "Hey."

"Hey," I return, not getting up but turning back to gaze at the deepening purple of the sky. The building is blocking out the sunset but I still find it fascinating to watch the sky change colour as they day ends.

"You going to be okay?" he asks.

I contemplate my answer. Do I be lie and tell him yes, I'll be fine? Do I lie and tell him no, I'm devastated? Or do I tell the truth - that I am just left with this dull ache that I can't describe, that I both want to beg him to take me back and scream at him to stay away - and let him make of it what he will?

"Top five songs for a break-up," I hear myself say.

Phil studies me for a second, walking closer, wiping his hands on his smock. "_Truce_, The Dresden Dolls." He reaches out with a now clean hand and cups my cheek, pulling me around to look at him. "_I Heard It Through The Grapevine_, Marvin Gaye." He smiles at me and leans in to kiss me on the forehead. "I love you, you know. You're a wonderful person and I wouldn't have you any other way. _I'm Looking Through You_, The Beatles." He pulls me from my seat into a hug, and I feel myself finally unleash, crying into his shoulder as everything that has happened in the last sixty-four hours finally catches up with me. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't judge me, he just holds me while I cry, and squeezes me a little tighter before letting go. I sit back down on the wall as he smiles at me sadly. I can't remember the last time I cried like this, if indeed I ever have. But I don't feel weak like I might have once, because I know there's nothing to feel weak about. This is what love does to you and it doesn't matter how tough you like to think you are, it gets to us all.

After what must have been ten minutes of silence between us since I got myself under control, he continues, in the same steady voice. "_How to Say Goodbye_, Paul Tiernan. _Diamonds in the Mine_, Leonard Cohen."

I smile at him. "Thanks, Phil."

He nods. "Anytime, Lor."

He turns away from me and climbs the stairs, and I wonder briefly what he's doing until the window to our flat opens and music starts to pipe down into the courtyard - _Diamonds in the Mine_, by Leonard Cohen. He descends the stairs quickly, joining me as the first verse is beginning in earnest, out of breath but smiling broadly. "Dance with me?"

I stand, sniffing once to try and clear my nose and eyes. "To this?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says, counting us into the rhythm and leading me in a very loose dance that would probably have Mrs. Haridas passed out on the floor. We twirl and spin, we groove and twist, we do whatever comes naturally while Leonard tells us all about how there are no letters in the mailbox. I should be feeling sad, and I am sad, but I'm also hopeful, because this is good and this is fun and with this, I can recover from anything.

With a friend by your side, you can make it through anything.

8 - 8 - 8 - 8

"We didn't see each other for months after that," I tell Lil. "Not until...well, the ball."

"You guys sure take a roundabout way of telling a story," Lil says. "Are we finally going to hear about the damn ball now?"

I look at my bridesmaids in the mirror. Kimi has had a hand on my shoulder throughout the retelling of the fight with Tino, but she offers me a smile, and I smile back. If she can smile about it, then why can't I? "Yes, we are."

* * *

_i hope this was up to scratch. i went back and forth over so much of it i was a bit worried i edited it to death. please review!_


	11. When One Door Closes, Try Not To

**Tertiary**

Acepilot

Authors Note: Wow, an update of Tertiary so quickly?! My god, what on earth has happened?! No, really, here it is: Chapter 11, as promised by mid-May. Sometimes I shock even myself. I want to thank everyone who reviewed, and hope people will give the earlier chapters another go now that I've fixed the problem with the scene shifts. I'd especially, as ever, like to thank **Lord Malachite**, who is as essential to this fic as HB pencils and coffee at my favourite café. Couldn't do it without you, man.

Disclaimer – characters contained within are property of KlaskyCsupo and Disney.

8 ---- 8  
Chapter 11  
**When One Door Closes, Try Not To Catch Your Dress In It  
**8 ---- 8

I've never really had a serious, long term relationship with someone before, so I had really _not _realised how much ending one would so completely _suck_. But suck it does, as it turns out.

I keep trying to tell myself that I ended things with Tino for the right reasons, for _good_ reasons, but no matter how many times I say it to myself, there's always that little, niggling doubt, and it's ultimately those doubts that are getting to me, getting me down.

Despite certain people's best efforts to the contrary.

Efforts which have lead me to here: sitting in the Northern Park at the far end of campus, nibbling on mandarins after what could only be described as a lovely picnic lunch, and trying to stay focussed on anything but Tino.

"What do you want to do next?" Phil asks, discarding the last of his own mandarin peel in a bowl.

I look away from where I was intently tearing a bit of napkin to tiny shreds and up at Phil. "What do _I _want to do next?"

He nods. "It's your day. We can do anything you want – except sit around and mope. That's officially not an option I'm offering."

I smile at him, but it's only half-hearted. "I do not just sit around and mope, Phil."

"Some days you come pretty close," he says. He smiles at me a little sadly. "It's been two months, Lor. You need to find some way to be…happy, again. To smile. Really smile."

I shrug. "I know. I'm getting there. I'm psyched about the ball tonight," I tell him.

Phil looks like he wants to tell me that "psyched" does not mean the same things as "happy" but instead lets it slide into the subject change I was looking for. "Me too. You don't think we'll make complete fools of ourselves?"

Tonight is the end-of-year ball for dance class, where we finally get to show off everything we've learned. I really _am_ excited about it, even if it has involved Kimi dragging me to a formal wear store and helping me buy a dress. A _dress_.

"As long as everyone doesn't laugh at me for looking ridiculous in a dress," I offer.

"Pfft. You'll look fine. Not that I'd know, as you won't even _show_ me this mythical dress…"

"I'm not wearing it for a second longer than I have to," I tell him, "so don't push." I finally decide where we're going next. "Come on, let's go to the zoo."

He raises an eyebrow. "The zoo?"

I shrug and croon, horrifically out of tune, "It's such a perfect day, see animals in the zoo, later a movie too and then home…"

"It's such a perfect day, drink sangria in the park," he sings in return, just as out of tune, looking at the remains of lunch around us. "Then later when it gets dark, we'll go home…" He grins at me broadly. "You're getting good at that kind of thing."

"Trying to make you proud of me," I tell him, brushing my hair back as I feel it constricting around my face. Phil sighs and fishes around in his pocket before pulling out a dark red hair tie. I roll my eyes at him but take it anyway, tying my hair back into a simple ponytail. I've been allowing it to get far too long recently. I keep telling myself that I just can't be bothered to get it cut, but in fact I kind of like looking in the mirror and seeing something in my reflection of the slightly different person I've become. It makes me feel…stronger, somehow, almost.

But I never, ever remember to bring anything to tie it back with. Phil seems to have noticed this, however, and appears to have developed a collection of hair-ties, laces and – once, before I hit him – a scrunchie, which he brings every time we go anywhere these days, knowing my newly lengthened hair will, sooner or later, start bothering me.

"Thanks," I tell him, exasperated but appreciative.

"Never a problem," he tells me, "never."

8 - - - - - 8

The zoo proves to be one of my better ideas. We stroll through it slowly, one animal at a time, never stopping for too long to let the conversation stagnated. We talk about bears, we talk about how much giraffes must hate laryngitis, we talk about wether or not tigers are actually aquatic but very vain cats who can't stand to see their reflection with the fur wet, and at one point Phil tells an epic, hilarious story about two emus, a duck and three holly bushes. I feel myself relaxing, letting go, I feel like myself before the break-up. I feel like…myself, I guess, really, almost to the point where I'd kind of forgotten who myself was. For the last eighteen months I've been one side of an ampersand – Tino & Lor, Lor & Tino. Now I'm just Lor again. What kind of surprises me is that it really wasn't that hard. I always kind of thought being in a relationship redefined who you were, but I think what this experience has taught me – as much as it has taught me anything – it's that it _shouldn't _define you. I've still got to be who I am, or else…well, who would I be?

I realise I've gotten completely and utterly lost in this train of thought while starting out the Zoo Café's broadest window at a bunch of free-roaming peacocks. Phil nudges me with a foot under the table. "I hate to break into your contemplation, Lor, but we should probably get going soon. Kimi is meeting us at the flat in about – " he checks his watch and gives a low whistle, "forty-five minutes, actually. So we really should be going."

I can hardly believe it's so late already, but I realise that lunch must have taken a while and we've been at the zoo for hours as well. I sigh and pull my chair out from the table. "I guess we should."

Phil reaches across the table and takes my hand. "You still with me over there, Ginger?"

I shrug. "I guess so Fred. Just…thinking."

Phil makes a face at me. "Well, be careful with that. You might hurt yourself."

8 - - - - - 8

We arrive home a good bit later than the suggested forty-five minutes, but Kimi has already let herself in, anyway, has put some Crowded House on the stereo and appears to be practicing dance steps with herself. She confessed to me that, thought she knows she's not in the class and will therefore not be expected to match moves with anyone, she's still determined to make a good accounting for herself and not look totally out of place. I assured her that's hardly likely – while neither of us are going to be challenging Susie Carmichael or anything, I nevertheless am deeply envious of the seemingly natural grace with which she seems able to move. Sport might have made me relatively quick and strong but basketball skills do not a ballerina make.

Phil immediately moves in and the two of them are straight into a whole other world, moving to the closing strains of _Kare Kare_ like they were born to do so. It just all looks so…intimate that I'm kind of compelled to look away.

But before I can bring myself to do so, it's over, the song changes and the moment ends. Kimi grins at Phil, kisses him softly and grabs me by the hand. "Come on, Cinderella. Let's get you ready for this ball."

I groan. "I thought we weren't doing anything too over the top."

She looks aghast. "Nothing but the barest of necessities, I assure you."

Somehow, I don't feel all that reassured.

8 - * - * - 8

"Hey! It was a perfectly reasonable job of dress and make-up," Kimi defends herself.

"Pfft," I retort wittily, as I try to zip up my dress with little success. Lil comes to my rescue. "Still more than _I _should _ever_ wear."

8 - * - * - 8

"Look up," she tells me.

I'm eying the tube in her hand warily. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

"It will if you don't look up," she huffs. "Come on, Lor! Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you!" I assure her. "I just…don't trust mascara. Or lipstick. Or foundation. Or _anything_."

"You must wear something, _sometimes_," she insists, pulling back with the mascara wand. "Come on. Just this once. Please? If you really don't like it I'll take it right off."

"Promise?" I ask, still cautious.

I sigh and acquiesce, allowing her to all but strap me into the chair and start applying heavy weaponry.

"I'm just not sure I see the point," I tell her. "It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone or anything."

She sighs in a very long-suffering form. "It's a ball, Lor. Very formal occasion. Just…take my word for it."

I obediently look up and the mascara barely hurts at all, and she applies a very light dusting of rouge and lets me apply my own, very subtle lipstick while she starts toying with my hair.

"I like that you're letting this grow," she tells me, pulling it back and running a brush through it. "When did you get it cut last?"

I have to think back. "It was regular length at New Years. I don't think since then." I jerk and cry out as she catches the brush in a thicket of tangles. "Careful, woman. That stuff is attached, y'know."

"Oh, hush, you big baby," she scolds, smoothing it out. I alarmed to see it falls to my shoulders now. I really should get it cut.

"Can I put it up?" she asks.

I eye myself critically. I've never really done anything with my hair since that one fateful week when I let myself fall in with the _wrong_ crowd and let them make me over. Part of me wants to say no, just because I feel it so isn't in me, but another part of me is making the argument that neither is the dress or the make-up, and maybe, just this once, while I'm trying to find out who I am post-Tino, that this might be a fun opportunity to experiment, and that I might as well try it before I get my hair cut back to its proper length.

"Alright. It's still pretty short compared to yours, though. I don't know that there's much you can do with it."

Kimi, evidently expecting me to say no, all but squeals with delight and runs out of the room, returning with a spray bottle full of water.

"Excited, much?"

She groans. "You and Lil _never_ do anything with your hair, so I never get to practice on another girl. Not since Susie moved in with Angelica, anyway. I tried some stuff out on Chuckie and Phil once, but that's a whole other story. I know it's pretty girly, but I like doing this kind of thing with my friends every now and then."

While she says this, she starts wetting and brushing my hair before experimenting with it, pulling it above my neck and trying some arrangement that makes it double over on itself. She dismisses this with a funny look on her face. I'm intently watching her do this in the bathroom mirror – the only mirror in the flat – so it takes a moment for me to catch up with what was actually said. "Wait. We're friends?"

She next starts pulling my hair to my right, trying some arrangement where it would knot and kink to that side, a style I'm sure I remember her wearing to the Galaxy Theatre at least once. She persists with this for a little longer than the first but ultimately gives up on it too. "For a long time, I was afraid you were going to steal Phil away from me, you know," she tells me. "You two were so close, Phil and I were struggling with the long distance thing, and every time I saw the two of you, all I could think was jealous thoughts. The rational part of my mind knew you were far, far too honest to do something like stealing someone's boyfriend, and that I was being totally paranoid, but I could only see you and Phil getting closer while he and I just seemed to be growing further apart. I was irrational and jealous and a bit mean spirited. I know you never tried to make Phil fall in love with you, and I really do trust you." While I try to take all of that in, she leans down and kisses me on the crown of my head, pulling my hair back into a simple ordinary ponytail which brushes against my neck. "I think it looks best kept simple. You really are very pretty, you know, even when you don't let me make you up or play with your hair."

This is all a bit much to comprehend, so I find myself just staring at her, gobsmacked, as she picks up the make-up again and begins to apply it to herself, which she does with a practiced ease. "Thanks, Kimi."

"You're more than welcome," she tells me. "Now let's get you into this dress."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"She was right, you know," Lil tells me, examining me in my fancy duds. "He's just going to fall over when he sees you in this."

"I hope not," Tish says from where she is lounging, feet up on another chair in front of her. "He'd get _his_ nice clothes all dirty. Anyway, I think this is where we came in."

"Pretty much," I agree, taking a deep breath. "We were off to the ball."

8 - * - * - * - 8

I take a deep breath as I step out of my room. I feel utterly ridiculous – much as I know it's a necessity for tonight, this kind of clothing just isn't really me, I don't think. But I step out into the lounge regardless, hoping that they at least don't laugh.

I'm in for a treat. Kimi, looking every bit the part in her scarlet ball gown, carries this look off a million times better than I think I'll ever manage. Phil cuts a very dashing look in his suit, black with dark blue trim to match my dress for the competition. They were muttering quietly between themselves, about what I have no idea, because they fall instantly silent at my grand entrance. Kimi grins at me broadly, shooting me a subtle thumbs up, an obvious attempt to reassure me that I don't look as ridiculous as I feel. Phil is harder to read – he is standing there with an awestruck look on his face, almost reverent, clearly surprised.

"Wow," is all he manages.

Kimi's smile just broadens. "That's boy-speak for 'you clean up real nice, Miss Lor ma'am."

Phil rolls his eyes, finally getting them unstuck from me to my slight relief, and turns to Kimi. "I said more than that when you walked in," he reminds her, before turning back to me. "You look beautiful, Lor."

I feel myself blush under his and Kimi's scrutiny, but force myself not to flinch away. "Thank you. Both of you. Now can we go to this damn thing and get it over with so I can get some jeans on?"

Kimi sighs but her grin doesn't fade, while Phil shrugs. "I dunno. This is a pretty auspicious occasion. I think we might have to drag it out as long as possible, y'know, to ensure there are plenty of witnesses. Dunno when this might happen again."

I groan in frustration.

8 - - - - - 8

By Phil's insistence – and, I suspect, more than a few threats to our fellow classmates – he landed himself the gig as the evening's musical director, mostly because he couldn't stand the thought of what everyone else might make us listen to in-between couples otherwise. We're not on ourselves until relatively late in the evening, so we spend most of the night watching the other couples go through their sequences. A few times Phil and Kimi get up and share a dance on one of the open floor numbers, and we gamely attempt a group dance Mrs. Haridas taught us – albeit to _Be My Baby_ by the Ronettes. This was not exactly the traditional number I think she had in mind, but it had the right beat.

Phil and I are sorting out our pre-performance jitters with a practice beforehand when I finally work up the courage to ask. "You weren't trying to spare my feelings before, were you? Do you really think I look…okay?"

He looks at me suspiciously. "Alright, who are you, and what have you done with Lor McQuarrie?"

I hit him on the back of the head. "I mean it. I just feel so…strange, in this get up. It's really not me. But you…you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

He sighs. "Lor, you look perfectly nice all the time, alright? But yes, I know this dress really isn't you, but that doesn't mean you don't look beautiful in it. Trust me."

I decide to take his word for it. Worrying is going to get me nowhere.

8 - - - - - 8

After Clarke and Simone return to their table – he still eyes Kimi pretty warily, even two months on, and has taken a table at the far end of the hall from us. I turn to Phil. "Alright, we're up next. You ready?"

I ask this, not rhetorically as I originally intended, but quite genuinely, as Phil has, in the last ten minutes or so, developed a strong fascination with the exits, staring at them like a pot on the boil and giving the impression he's about to do a runner.

He pulls his gaze away from the doorway and back to me, distracted for a second before flashing me a dazzling smile. "Ready and waiting," he assures me, rising from his chair. "Let's show 'em how it's done."

The room falls silent for us, as it has for every other couple thus far. All I can hear is the shuffling of chairs and the opening and closing of the door. I know from rehearsals that Mrs. Haridas is announcing us – _Philip DeVille and Lauren McQuarrie, dancing to Private Universe, by Crowded House_ (we decided to chose something out of left field, a bit more challenging than _Learning to Fly_ had been over the summer) – I can hear the sounds, I know what's being said, but I don't let myself think about it. All I watch is Phil's eyes, all I hear is the music. Our sequence is hard – well, hard by the standards of what we've been learning, anyway – and we've barely managed to get it right the whole way through until very recently in practice, even with Mrs. Haridas helping us. For the last two months, this dance has been my lifeline – practicing it, learning it, trying to perfect it is what kept me going, what got me past Tino, what kept me from sliding from moping into downright misery. I'm sure I've run Phil ragged, practicing so often, but he's never once complained. I think he knows what it's doing for me.

As the intro ends, Phil counts us in with four nods of his head and then we're away into the movements. I'm trying not to think about it, just let it flow over me. Phil leads me, I lead him, we move separately and then we come together, and it's _perfect_. One crowning moment where it all seems to go right. As we wind through our movements, he smiles at me, I catch glimpses of his eyes as I twirl, and he has a reassuring, caring look in them as we reach the final steps in our sequence as the song comes to its end. We've done it, perfect or near enough to, and I can barely believe it. Kimi and Mrs. Haridas lead a round of applause, and Phil and I share a triumphant grin before turning to face our adoring public, both flying high on our success and adrenaline. We take a bow, and as I rise from it, my eyes lock with Tino's, who is standing at the edge of the crowd, all but cheering in his enthusiasm for our success.

I feel all breath physically leave my body and I squeeze Phil's hand far too tightly, but he doesn't wince, just squeezes back reassuringly. I tear my eyes away from Tino to look at Phil, and he is simply standing there with a smile on his face, albeit one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He nods, and I don't even have to ask who invited Tino, because who else would it have been?

I take a deep breath. Alright, so here I am. After months of moping, of wanting so desperately to fix things, of not talking to him, of barely smiling at anyone, the opportunity has been plonked down in front of me. Part of my mind is urging me not to mess this up, but it's in contest with the part of my mind that is urging me to run, far away, and fast.

I'm very nearly paralysed by indecision, but finally I know I have to do _something_ – if nothing else, Phil and I are standing in the middle of the dance floor like idiots as the music starts back up again, and we really need to vacate it before we get run over by the couples returning for a free dance. I don't let go of Phil's hand as I lead him off the floor, toward our table, which Tino is also heading toward. I don't know if he's following us or if he was already heading for it from the other direction, but either way, I know I have to get myself under control before we collide and I explode.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Kimi rises from the table as we reach it, looking like she desperately wants to say something but not knowing what, or even to who. Her eyes are flashing between me, Tino and Phil as if not quite sure which train wreck looks more promising. She slumps back down in her chair without actually saying _anything_ and settles for staring at Phil in some kind of strange disbelief.

Before I can say anything to either her or Phil, though, Tino is there, an uncertain smile on his face an almost hopeful gleam in his eyes. I wonder what expression is on _my_ face, because I honestly don't have a clue.

For the last two months, this has been everything I told myself I wanted: to see Tino again, to try and work it out, to try and bridge the gaps, to try and make it right. And now, here he is in front of me, formal wear gleaming and smile on his face. This is what I wanted.

I think.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I respond.

Kimi exhales slowly. Phil is standing behind me, so I can't see his expression, but part of me imagines he's looking between us, puzzled as to why we haven't leapt into each others arms yet.

8 - * - * - * - 8

"He wasn't. He looked like he was going to be sick," Kimi informs us.

I jerk out of my retrospect and shrug at her noncommittally. "Well, I'm trying not to colour this with retrospect. All I knew at the time was that he invited Tino."

"Fair enough," she acquiesces.

Lil and Tish exchange a quick glance, and Lil voices their silent question. "You're telling us all this happened at the ball, which was in June, yes?"

I nod. "It was."

"But you didn't work it out until…Christmas?"

I sigh. "There were complications."

"I'll pay that," Kimi says. "You should probably hurry this story up, though, Lor. We're due out there in a few minutes."

8 - * - * - * - 8

Tino is leaning with his hands on the back of a chair, as if that's all that's holding him up. He has a look on his face that makes it clear he's looking for the right words but doesn't know what they are.

Kimi grabs Phil by the arm. "Come on Phil. I think I'd like to dance." Her voice does not so much promise intimate rhythm as much as imminent violence, and Phil is doing his best not to wince. He allows himself to be dragged away anyway, and Tino and I are left relatively alone.

_How've you been_ seems like such a lame opener. _So we should talk_ sounds a little better, but that would imply I have something to follow with, which I emphatically don't.

"You look good all dressed up," I tell him, stalling desperately for time while trying to work out where this conversation is going to lead.

He smiles, seeming to grow in confidence at this remark. "You too, actually. Between the dress and your hair, I almost didn't recognise you when I came in before."

I let that roll around in my head for a moment. "Phil invited you, didn't he?"

Tino shrugs. "Didn't invite me as such. Rang me up and asked if I remembered this was coming up, asked if I was still planning on showing up, suggested maybe I should, if not otherwise occupied."

I nod. I guess it could have been Kimi, but I knew, really, that it was Phil. "How've you been, these last few months?" I ask.

He shrugs. I get the feeling that we're both just as out of our depth here, neither of us having thought how this conversation might go even though, for me anyway, having this conversation has been all I could think about. "Not so good, to be honest with you." He looks up at me and meets my eyes. "I've missed you. A lot."

I nod. Part of me know this is a very significant moment. A lot rides on what I say next here. He's left all the options open. Do I want him? Do I want him to walk away? Do I want to talk about this? Do I want to try and forget all about it?

"I've missed you too," I tell him, "but maybe not in exactly the same way."

"What do you mean? How have you missed me?" he asks, pulling out the chair he was leaning on and sitting in it, prompting me to do the same. I feel like this moment just became much more intimate, something very much between him and me.

"I've missed knowing you're there," I tell him. For all my nerves and uncertainty, these words are some of the easiest I've ever said, they just seem to come to me with a readiness that reminds me of my old self-confidence, the security I hold within me. "For nearly our entire lives, I've taken comfort in knowing that you're there for me as a friend and for the last two months that's been gone. The knowledge that I love you in my life is something very important to me. That's what I've missed."

He absorbs this for a moment. "I understand that feeling. I've missed you too. When something has happened in the last few weeks – my results coming through, or finding a new flat, making new friends – I've wanted to tell you, but I couldn't because we weren't talking. I don't like us not talking, Lor."

"Neither do I," I admit.

It would be so easy, I know, to re-open this door that I had so tried to pull closed, to say _Let's work this out_, to have him as my boyfriend again. I think he'd want to try and fix it and we could be as we used to be.

Except, I remind myself, that's the problem. What we were wasn't working, which is what lead us to here – a broken relationship, a broken friendship, and a desperately awkward conversation between two once-best-friends.

"You said before that you almost didn't recognise me when you walked in before," I begin, very hyper-aware of what I'm saying, what I'm essentially doing here. Closing the door. At last. "I think that might be the key to it all, really. We started a high school romance in college…but we're all grown up now and moved on to other parts of life…"

"And our romance is one of those things that's in the past," he agrees, smiling at me. "I want to be your friend again. I need that much back."

"So do I," I assure him, reaching over and taking his hand.

"Good," he says, squeezing it, before withdrawing. "Can I have one last dance?"

"Oh, we'll dance again," I tell him, but take his hand anyway and lead him out to the floor.

8 - * - * - * - 8

We collectively jump at a knock on the door. Tish is near tears from what I've just been telling them, so Lil firmly answers, "Who is it?"

"Uh…it's Phil. Look, I know I'm meant to be out there and everything, but you've all been locked in that room for a while now, and Lor's brothers were saying something about a body bag – "

I groan in frustration and jump up from my seat, storming over to the door and yanking it open. "Would everyone get it into their heads that I am _not_ running out on this wedding! I swear to god, does everyone think I'm such a bloody wuss that – what?"

He is not cowering before me as I had anticipated, but rather staring at me in awe. "Nothing," he says, still staring. "I thought you weren't going to wear a dress. You weren't before."

I realise that we had indeed conversed on this topic not ninety minutes ago. "I changed my mind." I look up and catch his eye with mine, a challenge as he's quite focussed on…other parts of me. "I hope that's okay?"

He doesn't react for a moment or two, before simply nodding. "I'd forgotten how good you look in that dress."

"So good you want to marry me?" I ask.

"Hell yes," he tells me, stepping forward to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me in –

"No kissing!" Tish interjects. "That can wait another ten minutes until you're good and married, thank you very much."

Phil sighs and rolls his eyes, but kisses me softly on the forehead. "I'll see you out there, then?"

"I wouldn't miss it," I assure him. He smiles at me, glares at Tish for interrupting us, squeezes Kimi's hand and hugs Lil before walking out the door.

"Don't take too much longer," he tells us, "You I could wait for forever but I think Reggie's going to start looking for the bar soon."

I roll my eyes but smile at him all the same.

8 - * - * - * - 8

After we've danced, and danced again and again, trading partners with anyone and everyone who's up for it and having an all-around wonderful time, the ball is finally winding down. There is one last thing I've been wanting to do, though – one last thing I need to know.

So I walk up to Phil and Kimi and ask, "Can I cut in?"

Phil gives me a look of disdain. "Who says she wants to dance with you, anyway?"

Kimi rolls her eyes and swats him on the arm. "Doofus. I'll be getting a drink," she tells us, flashing me a dazzling smile before heading for the bar.

Phil and I slip into an old routine, back to basics, stuff we can do now without even having to think about it. "Fun night?" I ask him.

He smiles broadly. "I think so. You?"

I stare him in the eye. "I'm not getting back together with Tino. We're going to try and rebuild our friendship."

His eyes go…funny, for a moment, before coming back to meet mine. "Ah."

We dance in silence for a moment, just being together in the moment, in the music, before he starts speaking, quietly, in a voice only I can hear. "A piece of string walks into a pub, right. He goes up and sits on a stool at the bar, and says to the barman, 'Can I get a glass of beer, thanks?' The barman says 'Sure,' and starts pulling the beer, before he stops and says, 'Hang on? Aren't you a bit of string?' This piece of string says, 'Well, yeah.' The barman says, 'What kind of place do you think this is? This is a bar, we don't serve bits of string, bugger off.' So the piece of string, quite dejected, gets up off the barstool and walks out of the pub, into the street. Once out there, he sighs, then ties a knot in himself, musses up his hair and walks back into the bar, sits down at the same stool, and says to the barman, 'Can I get a glass of beer, thanks.' The barman starts pulling the beer again, before doing a double take. He says, 'Hang on, aren't you that piece of string I threw out of here a moment ago?' And the piece of string says – "

"Why did you tell Tino to come tonight?" I ask him.

He is not miffed at the interruption. He just looks in my eyes, a heartbreaking look on his face. "I just wanted to make you smile again."

A tear creeps into my eye as I feel a spike of adrenaline course through my body, and I let out a single sob before stopping dancing and just wrapping my arms around him, a smile wider than any I think I've ever worn before colouring my features bright red. "Thank you, Phil."

"You're welcome."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"And then they kissed passionately, right there on the dance floor," Kimi concludes.

I sigh in reminiscence before her words jerk me out of it. "Wait, what!? No, we didn't!"

Kimi rolls her eyes and throws her head back. "And why the hell not!? The most romantic moment of your life to date and you just let it pass you right by!"

"He was _your_ boyfriend at the time, you know!" I remind her.

"Yeah, but still – who lets a guy say 'I just want to make you smile' and then doesn't kiss them for _six forsaken months_!?" she exclaims.

"Me," I tell her. "Look, I'd just broken up with Tino, and the benefit of hindsight lets me know some things but I wasn't about to break the two of you up – "

"So you weren't even a little bit attracted to him at this point? It was just friendship?" Lil cuts in, before this can explode into a real 'I told you so' kind of thing.

"Very close friendship," I admit. "I mean, I think I probably was attracted to him then. But I didn't admit it to myself until later."

"When?" Kimi asks. "I was never quite clear on that."

Tish and I exchange a glance. Tish knows _exactly _when.

But then there's another knock at the door, and my dad sticks his head in. "Uh, Lor, honey – it's time."

"I'll tell you at the reception," I tell her, sighing.

Lil groans in frustration, but Kimi says, "I'll hold you to that," before rising to her feet, and holding a hand out to pull me to mine. She pulls me into a hug that pushes the oxygen right out of me. "Now let's go get you married."

I nod before being pulled into a similarly bone-crushing hug by Lil. "I'm so glad you're going to be my sister," she tells me. "Someone else who can hit him on the head when he's being an idiot."

"I'm pretty psyched about getting a sister at all. Maybe you can distract some of my brothers," I tell her.

She smiles at me, and she and Kimi walk out, past my dad, to take their places in the wedding party, already doubtlessly setting up at the front of the hall, leaving just me and Tish.

"I'm not going to ask if you're ready," she tells me.

I smile at her. "Good. I am, though."

"I know." There's a tear in her eye. "I'm really happy for you."

"Hard to believe we'd end up here?" I ask her.

She nods. "Sometimes. When we were kids, I don't think I ever seriously thought this would happen like this. But then, when we were kids, you didn't know him, either."

"Thank you for everything," I tell her. "Everything you did for me – for us – forgiving me for that stupid fight – everything – "

"Forget it," she tells me. "Now, shall we go do this?"

I take a deep breath and nod. "Yes."

I take my Dad's arm and, as befitting this small a ceremony, we walk down the aisle, such as it is, with a minimum of fuss. I worry somewhat about tripping on my dress – I haven't walked in one of these things for years – but we make it to the front without incident, where Phil is waiting for me with an expression of pure, unadulterated joy – I know that sounds corny but I honestly can't think of any other way to describe it – on his face.

An expression that I'm sure is matched on mine. After all, he always was able to make me smile.

8 - - - - - 8

don't go yet - there are still four more chapters to come. trust me. but please review!


	12. A Star In My Mind's Eye

**Tertiary**  
Acepilot

Author's note: Alright, so apparently, I caught a few people by surprise with the revelation that Lor is marrying _Phil_. Specifically, my faithful reviewers (especially **Fletty**). It was, of course, meant to be a big, surprising reveal, but in the end, I thought I'd given it away chapters ago, so I was in turn kind of surprised that anyone was actually surprised. :) Okay, I'll confess: up until I finished Chapter 2, this was meant to be a Lor/Tino story, but after I wrote Chapter 2, I just couldn't see it working with anyone other than Phil. I just love the characters so much and I think they work so well together, especially as they go through the kind of changes you experience in college. The story up to this point has been all about a developing friendship, from here on it's about how that friendship develops into something else. I hope you're all enjoying it enough to see it through to the end with me. To anyone wondering at what's going on with Phil this chapter, you might want to read _Be Happy_ (posted in the Rugrats/AGU section) to understand his story a bit better.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed - you're very much helping me keep this up. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And thanks, as ever, to my faithful cohort **Lord Malachite**, who is keeping me on track with the determination of a jockey riding a Melbourne Cup winner home.

Anyway, sorry for this obnoxiously long author's note, but I just wanted to share all that with everyone. Please enjoy the chapter, and maybe review?

Disclaimer – Characters contained within are property of Nickelodeon, KlaskyCsupo and Disney.

NB. On my profile page, there is a link to a Youtube playlist with most of the songs relevant to this fic – including the one from this chapter, _Planetarium_ by Mick Harvey. Be sure to check it out – it'll probably help things make a lot more sense.

8----8  
Chapter 12  
**A Star In My Mind's Eye**  
8----8

I have to consciously remind myself, every few seconds, to stop looking at the ring on my finger, but it has an attraction that I'm finding quite hard to fight. It's there, it's really _there_, the only ring I will ever wear – he didn't even propose with a ring, after all. The only ring I would ever think of wearing, the only ring I will ever wear, a simple little unadorned band that says I'm his _wife_.

I'm his _wife_.

Wow.

I force myself to think about something, _anything_ else, and so allow my eyes to roam among the guests. Reggie and Dil, as seems pretty typical for the two of them whenever they're in the same place, are currently engaged in a contest to drink each other under the table. I suppose I really should try and stop them, but…well, let them have their fun, so long as they know Phil and I _aren't_ carting their asses home tonight. We'll be off on our honeymoon and wild horses couldn't drag us back, much less wild and drunk friends.

Besides, Dil's parents are here. Surely _they'll _carry him home. Reggie might be on her own though.

Angelica and Susie seem to be socialising, albeit distractedly, as they try to stop Sean bothering people, a challenge that I declared impossible as soon as the little brat learned to walk, but I guess they're obliged to at least try. Tish and Tino are off in their own little world, as they so often seem to be these days. I almost feel that, for them, the world became a very different place when Tish became pregnant, with everything else simply being some kind of elaborate distraction from preparing for their forthcoming child. Susie assures me that she and Angelica were the exact same way and it wears off, but I take this with a grain of salt as experience has shown me getting them to focus on anything besides their son is a waste of time.

Carver is trying to hit on Lil with fairly predictable results; while Kimi flits from table to table seemingly making sure everyone is having a good time. And Phil is facing a grilling from my Dad and my big brother, Kirk, with only Chuckie to back him up. I almost feel like I should go and help him, rescue him from the overprotective idiots, but he's got an easy smile on his face and seems to be holding his own – my husband can take care of himself.

My husband. He's my _husband_, finally.

I never realised how beautiful the words "my" and "husband" fit together until this very instant.

"How the hell did you put up with Carver for so long?" Lil breaks into my contemplation, slumping down into the seat next to me with a solid _whump_.

"I was never exposed to his pick-up lines," I tell her.

"Good thing, too. They're _awful_." She picks up the glass in front of her and takes a sip of water, before realising it's not actually her glass, pausing, and apparently deciding it's probably safe and downing the rest of it. "Having a good time?" she asks.

"The best time," I tell her. "Just sitting here, having a…good time."

"You're radiating this near frightening sense of joy," she informs me, "all from marrying my _brother_, of all people. Which reminds me," she kicks off her very uncomfortable looking shoes, stretching her legs, "I had a question."

"Shoot."

"Well, Susie had this kind of, y'know, last attempt to conform to society thing going, plus a good degree of just loosening up. Kimi had some long-standing unresolved sexual tension element happening. And besides, they've both known him since childhood, so he had plenty of time to wear them down. But you've only known him since the start of college, and you're clearly relatively issue-free, so I have to ask – what the hell led you to be attracted to _Phil_?"

"Because it clearly wasn't his dancing skills, or you'd have caved a lot sooner," Kimi says, startling me. I was so caught up in Lil's dramatics that I hadn't noticed her claiming the chair on my other side.

I sigh. "Do you really want to know?"

Kimi nods vigorously, "If only to compare notes."

8 - * - * - * - 8

I tap myself on the forehead a few times before realising the paintbrush is actually still wet – I hadn't cleaned it as well as I'd thought, apparently – and I now have a big dab of red paint on my face. I groan in frustration and swipe at the pain with my hand, but this just spreads it around further. Finally, I admit defeat, trooping into the bathroom to wash my face – and the paintbrush – properly. I stand in front of the mirror, scowling at the red mark I'd splashed across my cheek. "I know I don't have any experience with painting my face," I mutter to myself, "but this is so not my idea of a makeup lesson."

I stare at myself in the mirror and let everything that has happened recently just sort of…wash over me. It had all been going so well, I thought. In recent times, I seemed to have it all so under control. I was getting over Tino, doing well in school for what seemed like the first time in my life, and having and all-round great time.

Then I went home.

Last weekend, I headed back to Bahia Bay for the first time since the summer, and, for the first time since summer, I saw Tino face to face. I knew it was coming – we were all going to meet, it was the first time Tish and Carver had been able to get back at the same time since last Thanksgiving, and all four of us were going to celebrate. So I got to see Carver for the first time in forever, and I discovered that I really did miss the lovable moron. But, yeah, I also saw Tino for the first time since we broke up.

It was about as much fun as could be expected. I mean, it's not like it was completely awful – we avoided the subject of our relationship admirably, we're probably not ready to reminisce on _that_ yet – but we've still got a ways to go to recapturing anything resembling the close friendship we once had. But hey, it's a start.

Ultimately, it was seeing Tish that was most problematic.

We were relaxing at the pizza place – well, as much as you can relax while trying to juggle a torch, a stuffed beagle and a piece of vegetarian pizza with extra cheese in an otherwise pitch-black restaurant – talking about how college was going, how it was to be home, how we were enjoying the pizza when people dressed as turtles weren't trying to steal it from us – when the conversation turned, inevitably, to men, and more specifically, Tish's god-awful run of luck with them, something I thought maybe I could finally empathise with.

"So Peter and I broke up," she concluded, after giving me a laundry list of Peter's many, many flaws, "and I think I've finally shaken off Carver. I mean, he's nice and everything, and a good friend, but I just can't see him…_that_ way, y'know."

"I know," I tell her. "Sometimes, you've just got to face that difference."

She pits me with a stare. "Really. Because wouldn't Carver pretty much be your only close male friend that you've _not_ been involved with?"

I am more than slightly taken aback by this. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tish looks at me slightly incredulously. "Well, you know, you were sort of friends with Thompson and then got involved with him, then you and Tino, and now Phil. It's not _bad_ or anything," she rushes to assure me.

I'm not exactly sure what she's implying, but I suspect it's not _good_, in spite of her assurances to the contrary. "There's nothing going on between me and Phil," I correct her.

She laughs, a little amused Tish-laugh. "Oh, come on. We're all friends here."

My jaw drops. "Why would I lie to you?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. I thought you broke up with Tino to go after Phil, that's all."

Memories of the summer before last, and Kimi's annoying jealousy, come flooding back. "No! I'm not even attracted to Phil like that. _And_ he has a girlfiend."

Tish just shrugs again. She keeps doing that and it makes me want to physically restrain her shoulders. "So, why did you and Tino break up?"

"It wasn't working for us," I tell her. "I told you all about this."

She raises an eyebrow, though a slight tell-tale blush is creeping into her cheeks. "Oh.'

I narrow my eyes. "Did you think I was lying to you?"

She withdraws slightly from her own torchlight and I pit her with mine. She shrugs. _Again_. "I just thought it was a bit…strange."

"How?" I ask.

"Well, y'know," she sighs. "Here you are in this relationship with the perfect guy, building up for this perfect life, and then, suddenly, you dump him. I thought – I thought something must have been going on."

I feel deeply betrayed but I'm not quite sure how. I just know this is something which is technically incredibly offensive to me, even if I can't quite yet put my finger on why. "Okay, for one; Tino is not perfect. Two, I did not _dump_ him. _We _broke up. After fighting. A lot. Three, I don't know _what_ you're implying, but I _never _cheated on Tino. I'm not even interested in Phil."

"Oh, come on, Lor," she laughs. "You can't be serious."

Whatever she's finding funny is completely and utterly lost on me. "Dead serious."

I don't think she's taking it as serious at all. "You just always – I dunno – you seem very into him. You're practically attached at the hip to the guy, you have so much in common – he's not exactly what would float my boat, but hey. You and he just made sense to me. I mean, why else wouldn't things work out for you and Tino?"

There it is again – this suggestion – or assumption, really – that I dumped Tino for Phil. "How many times do I have to say it? Tino and I just aren't compatible. Not for a relationship, anyway."

She looks at me with a complete baffled expression, and I think that maybe she's starting to buy it. "Right. Okay then."

I groan. "Come on. Say it. Whatever it is you're aching to say, say it."

She sighs and pits me with a fixed look, turning her torch on me so we look like we're trying to interrogate each other in some old cop movie. "Tino's smart, and funny, and sensitive and cute, and a hopeless romantic – "

"And I'm not one. And he's also a bit clingy, likes to avoid facing problems and is sweet but maybe a bit too naïve. We were great friends but as boyfriend and girlfriend we eventually just started to grate on each other. We ended. That was that. Come to terms with it, Tish. I have. Why can't you?"

She shakes her head. "I just don't see why you wouldn't work at it harder when you could have had something so great."

This time I actually do let out a little scream of frustration. "And _you _have no idea what being in a relationship with Tino is actually like."

And then it hits me.

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"

Tish clicks her torch off suddenly, but I keep her pinned with mine. "I do not."

Oh, no way is she getting away from this that easily. "Is this why you never like to help me when I had problems with Tino? Because you had feelings for him?"

Her torch comes back on, right in my eyes and temporarily reducing all objects to bright blurs. "How _dare_ you? You think I'd try and steal him from you? What kind of friend do you think I am?"

"But I'd do it to Kimi?" I protest, quite loudly. Several other patrons have turned their torches toward us so we are bathed in the strongest light in the pizza shop, and I find myself staring at a red-faced, fuming Tish, an expression on her face that I've never seen there before. "I have no attraction to Phil – "

"That line's getting old," she tells me.

"I've never been attracted to him," I insist. "We're best friends, he's a wonderful guy, sure, but I've never even thought about him that way."

She just stares at me. Knowingly.

"And we are talking, now, about you and Tino," I tell her.

"No, we're not," she says, and gets up, marching determinedly out of the shop.

That was less than a week ago, and I've been trying to sort out my conflicting feelings about the fight ever since.

For one, Tish and I very rarely fight any more. Not since we were kids have we had a serious falling out, but this qualifies, definitely. And part of what gets me about it is that it's something so _stupid_.

I really don't care if she's attracted to Tino. He and I broke up. It's in the past. I know – I _know_ – that she never would have made a move while he was in a relationship with me and I never should have accused her of doing so, but I'll admit to having been a bit angry at the accusations she was throwing around at me, that I'd try to steal Phil under Kimi's nose, that I'd cheat on Tino.

I wipe the paint off my forehead with a washer, scrubbing hard enough to leave another red mark in place of the one I just got rid of. I look at myself critically. My hair's starting to get pretty long – long enough that I have to keep it tied back most of the time now. Phil tried to braid it a few weeks ago with mixed success. My complexion is still irritatingly pale considering how much time I spend out in the sun, but I think I've grown into an attractive enough woman. I'm still hardly going to be winning any beauty contests – not that I'd enter – but I'm comfortable within my own skin.

I've been single nearly five months and not been on a single date the entire time. Unless you count going to the Galaxy Theatre with Phil.

Phil.

Tish is not the first person to insinuate that there is something more to my relationship with Phil, of course. Kimi, most notably, felt – or feared – that there was something going on, though she seemed to come to a distinct peace with it at some point after Christmas last year. She told me that she knew I wasn't trying to make Phil fall for me, and while I wasn't quite sure what that meant at the time, and I still worry that I'm interpreting it wrongly, I've decided to let sleeping dogs lie and just enjoy the friendship that she offers now that she's over it. Lil, of course, asked me if I was attracted to her brother, and, though not in so many words, I've heard the same question from Carver, Dil, Susie and about two dozen of our fellow co-eds here at university.

For the entire time I've known Phil, he has been Phil, Kimi's boyfriend, and for nearly the entire time I've known him, I've been Lor, Tino's girlfriend. I've copped more than a few accusations of being selfish, and I'll admit that at times I'm not exactly the most thoughtful person in the world, but I would _never_ cheat on someone or be someone's _other woman_, so Phil has been an almost-entirely non-sexual entity in my mind for the span of our friendship. I mean, he's cute, sure, but he's also not touchable.

There's still some paint on my forehead, but I decide to leave it there, as it sort of completes the look I'm going for. I pull one of Phil's old art smocks on over my shirt and appropriate the rather ridiculous beret that I bought him as a joke last Christmas. I take my very carefully cleaned paintbrush and tuck it behind my ear, and check myself out in the mirror. I look absolutely _ridiculous_, but hey, it's Halloween, and I'm allowed.

Phil and I were totally without ideas for what the hell to go to this Halloween party as. Last year we had gone as typically scary stuff (he'd been a mummy, to great effect, while I had played off my pale complexion as a ghost) only to discover that we were the only ones who had, with everyone else appearing as regular, everyday albeit out of character forms of themselves, at which point Phil had reclassified our costumes as a before/after plastic surgery double. This year we're officially going as an artist and a journalist, but in practice we're going as each other. I thought it was kind of a funny idea, but I'm a bit nervous as I still haven't seen his costume, so I'm not sure what he classifies me as looking like. He had to go back out to the suburbs today to visit his family on some mysterious mission that he wouldn't tell me too much about, saying he didn't want to say anything until he knew either way, and that he'd meet me at the Planetarium.

I sigh and move away from the mirror, trying, for once, not to think about Tish or Tino or Phil or relationships. Tonight is going to be fun. I am going to go out and spend a nice evening at a Halloween party with my best friend. That is all.

This is not as easy as it sounds.

8 ---- 8

The Planetarium is a converted ballroom that the college used to hold functions at. Long before Mrs. Haridas ever thought of a dance class, however, the owners converted it into a much simpler club arrangement, keeping the massive high ceilings and a fair sized chunk of dance floor but adding a stage and a great deal more alcohol. It's become the unofficial hang out of the members of dance class and famous for its parties. Like, for example, the Halloween party.

This year I've seen Ghandi chatting with Abraham Lincoln, I've seen someone I'm convinced was meant to be Billy the Kid dancing some very dangerous looking moves (spurs, what can I say?) and a girl in a Disney princess outfit that may be the most ridiculous looking thing I've ever seen, next to my own outfit, anyway.

It's different, I'll tell you that for nothing.

Phil is running late.

This shouldn't bother me. He's not exactly the most punctual of people. But neither are we the tightest of friends this week, and that perhaps is what disturbs me more. He's not here, but then, I haven't really been here for most of the week, either, and I'm worried he's going to bail on me because of the way I've been treating him.

Of course, that's ridiculous. Phil is too good a friend to pull that kind of crap. I know that. It doesn't help my paranoia, though.

I've been saving us the best couch in the place, knowing that he hates the stools that are scattered throughout the rest of the bar, but I'm aching to get up and get a drink. I know that the instant I move the seat will disappear under throngs of people who have been throwing me jealous glances as I lay here, sandals kicked off, stretching out over the whole couch and refusing to move, and then we'll have to sit on stools.

I'm not saving him a seat, I realise. I'm saving _us_ a couch. I close my eyes.

I've spent a very long time locking Phil away in a little part of my mind that reads: off-limits. Go find someone else. So long, in fact, that I don't think I've ever thought to look at him any other way. I've never classified a guy I wasn't related to that way in my life. Tino, Carver, Thompson, any number of guys at school, at college, from Bahia Bay, from LA, hell, from Oakland – they've all been guys who I've looked at clinically and assessed as potential boyfriends – to varying degrees of seriousness, of course. But never Phil.

I'm saving _us_ a _couch_.

I feel someone nudging my legs. I groan but don't open my eyes. "Sorry. Saving us a couch."

"I'd hoped," a familiar voice comes to me. "I've brought us drinks. You want to move your legs?"

I open my eyes, and there's a guy standing at the end of the couch, a wry grin on his face. He has blonde hair trimmed a bit shorter than usual, hidden under a fedora hat with a press-pass in the band, and in the dim light I would swear his eyes were blue, but he speaks with Phil's voice and it's unmistakably Phil's smirk in those strange coloured eyes.

"Phil!"

His grin broadens. "What do you think?" he asks, doing a little twirl for my satisfaction. He's wearing a very old style suit and looks like someone who wouldn't be out of place at the 1950s Daily Planet. "I had to borrow Stu's old suit – turns out I'm taller than dad, I never noticed – but I think I make a pretty good looking journalist."

"You're blonde," I point out, wondering if this fact has somehow been lost on him, given the fact that he doesn't seem to feel it's unusual.

"Well, change is good," he says.

"You have blue eyes," I continue.

"My optometrist fixed me up with some coloured lenses," he tells me. "I thought they looked good."

"They do, they do," I assure him. "They look…different. Very different. You definitely don't look like you."

He shrugs. "Kind of the point, wasn't it?"

I nod. "Yes."

He smiles at me, a less mischievous grin than before, but follows it up by saying, "So, are you going to move your legs, or what?"

"Oh!" I feel blood rush to my face as I lift my legs and he slides onto the couch next to me. I consider putting my feet down on the floor and sitting, but decide I'd rather keep them up and plonk my legs back down in his lap. He doesn't say anything but just hands me a drink. "Thanks."

"A pleasure," he tells me. "How's the party going, anyway?"

"Same old, same old," I tell him, pointing a finger at the ceiling, where speakers blast vaguely Halloween-themed music at us. "Better tunes this year."

"Couldn't get much worse," he points out, sipping at his drink. "When they play something that isn't crap, we'll get up and dance. Until then, this couch is ours."

"Sounds like a plan," I agree, resisting the temptation to down my own drink in one go. I'm not going to get drunk. No matter how conflicted I am, I'm not getting drunk. Look how it ended up going for me last time.

"Y'know, I was talking to Dil today," he tells me, slumping back on the couch, my legs in his lap, and turning his head to rest on the top of the seat while he looks at me. "And he was going on about how stoked he is that he's finally getting into his second year of university, when it hit me: we're in our _last year_ of our courses. We've got like…eight months left. Does that scare you as much as it scares me?"

I shrug. "I dunno. A little. I'm kind of excited, I guess. You know, the real world awaits, and everything."

"Yeah, the real world," he says, resting a hand on my leg while the other plays with the arm of the couch. "Great place, I hear. Very fair."

I reach up and give him a light shove. "I'm sure it's not that bad, doofus."

He grins at me. "Yeah, well. Getting out of college is exciting and all, but…I dunno. When I left high school, it was kind of – 'wow, I'm glad that's over, now we're off on this great big adventure' – except now, we're getting out of college, and I kind of just want to stay."

"You could do a doctorate of art," I point out. "Get you another few years."

He laughs. "Yes. Me, studying artists. Writing a _thesis_. If you ever hear me talking about wanting to take a doctorate of art, put me to bed, because I'm _drunk_."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him.

See, this is what drives me nuts. This is easy. With Tino, it was so hard sometimes, especially once we got together, just to keep a conversation going. But with Phil, it all comes so easily. I wish I could have that with a boyfriend.

I saved this couch for us.

"Where are you going to go, when we finish?" he asks.

A million ideas of where I might go after we finish university flash through my mind. Back to Bahia Bay to write for the Herald? On to New York to try and get a job with the Post? Try to land a dream job as NFL correspondent with _Sporting Weekly_? I have no idea.

Where's he going to go?

I don't answer.

He doesn't comment on this, nor does he ask again. Instead, he changes topic, seemingly completely at random. "Are you allergic to cats?"

I pause for a moment, wondering where exactly we got onto cats when we had, last I knew, been talking about graduating college, but I decide to let it slide and just answer the question. "Uh, no. I don't think so, anyway. We never had a cat growing up. I think one of my brothers had a dog at some point, or tried to. He had to hide it from my Dad, I can't remember whether he was successful or not. Possibly he hid it so well even _I _didn't know about it."

I'm rambling a bit here, trying to work out where this conversation is going and erring on the side of just-keep-talking.

"Did _you_ ever want a dog?" he asks, curious.

"No, not really. I mean, I've got nothing against dogs. Or cats. Just…never thought about it. We could never have one – there were enough of us as it was, my dad used to tell me, and any poor quadruped would just get trampled. That and I accidentally killed my big brother's goldfish."

Phil raises an eyebrow. "How do you accidentally kill a goldfish?"

"Well, it was Kirk's, and Simon and he were having a fight. Simon didn't want to get in trouble for taking revenge on Kirk – I can't even remember what they were fighting about now – and I was like, three, at the time. Simon told me that Kirk was being mean to the goldfish by never letting him swim freely and that I needed to put the fish in the washing machine so it got exercise."

"Ah," Phil says, a smile flickering on his face between expressions that are clearly meant to offer comfort for my having been taking advantage of by the evil big brothers.

"Anyway, Kirk found out and was _furious_, everyone knew Simon had told me to do it, and he got in lots of trouble. After that my brothers stopped using me as the butt of their schemes, mostly because it wasn't long after that I worked out how to get back at them. They turned their attention to Chris, he was a much easier target than I was. The net result was dad sitting me down and giving me the 'Lauren,' – I knew I was in trouble when he used my full name – 'you mustn't touch other people's things or pets' speech, and that was that. But pets were kind of a pipe dream after that." Phil's given up on attempting to hide it and is now smiling broadly, so I smack him in the head. "It's not funny."

"It is a bit," he tells me. "I never understood how you get Lor from Lauren, though."

I groan. "What is this, exposition night?"

"Humour me," he asks, hand running up and down my leg.

I throw my head back. "When I was born they tried to teach my brothers to say my name, but Chris and Rick – the twins, just older than I am – couldn't quite get their way around 'Lauren'. So Dad tried to break it up into syllables, and with his accent – " I drop my voice into a lower register and affect my Dad's Scottish/Southern accent, "Laww-renn. But they never got the idea that you had to put the two together and to them I was Baby Lor. And then _all_ my brothers called me that, and then my whole family, and by the time I got to school and we went around and told everyone what our name was, I'd kind of forgotten that they'd want me to say Lauren, and got a bit defensive when they told me I had gotten my own name wrong."

"Not the best way to start your school career," he points out.

"It wasn't, but then I met Tish, who explained to me that she wasn't that keen on her name either, because even the teachers got _hers_ wrong. We bonded over our abbreviated nicknames and basically went from there."

With that retelling of our shared history, I ache for Tish. I miss her. Suddenly I wish she was here, so we could work out our dumb fight, talk it out, slap it out, whatever. Just so we weren't fighting any more. So I could tell her about the conflict I suddenly find myself in within myself, that she was right – but that I was right also – and that I just want to help her through whatever it is she feels for Tino if she will help me through the confusion I suddenly find myself in with regards to the fact that I'm lying on a couch with a very close friend who, maybe, I'm a little bit attracted to as his fingernails delicately scratch a funny little pattern very relaxingly over my legs. I'm glad I'm wearing full-length trousers because I haven't shaved. Not that he hasn't seen me with hairy legs before and not that I'm that vain but who knows, maybe he wouldn't be doing this otherwise and in spite of my racing train of thought it really is very relaxing.

"Dil, Lil and I briefly considered starting a rap trio but could never find a suitable pun to go with the rhyming names," he tells me, a grin on his face as he remembers a misspent youth.

"Have any lyrics?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah," he says, actually laughing at the memory.

"Will you tell me some?" I press.

The laughter stops abruptly. "Not even if you paid me."

"Oh, come on," I insist, niggling at him, mostly just to drive him nuts. "You know you want to."

"You really don't want me to," he assures me. "There's enough crappy music in this place already."

I smile at him indulgently. "Party-pooper."

"You bet," he says, one hand still tracing patterns on my leg, the other now massaging my foot. I cushion my head with my arms and decide to enjoy it. "So, you're not allergic to cats?"

"No," I tell him. "No, I'm not."

"Good," he says. "Would you mind, then, if I got a cat?"

"I wouldn't mind, no," I tell him.

"You're not going to move out or anything because I'm a thoughtless roommate who only ever thinks of his pet?"

"The cat can eat off the fine china as long as you cook me breakfast, too," I tell him.

"Good," he says, before pausing in his ministrations. "We don't have any fine china."

"We'll get some," I tell him. "Just for your cat."

"Thank you," he says, patting my leg before returning to his earlier tasks. I could get used to this.

"Where is this cat coming from, as a point of curiosity?"

"You know Andy, from my photo class?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say without thinking, but I'm pretty sure I do. "Tall guy. Shaved head."

"Yes. Anyway, his cats had kittens. I've got pick of the litter, if I want it."

"I never knew you wanted a cat," I tell him.

He shrugs. "I dunno. I always kind of wanted a pet but I never really wanted a dog. Lil wanted a Labrador but we generally just borrowed Tommy and Dil's dogs when we wanted to play with one. But I kind of like the idea of a cat. They're aloof enough to take care of themselves but their dependent enough that you still feel like you've got a pet."

"Good way of putting it," I tell him, contemplating getting up to get another drink but deciding I'm actually pretty comfortable. "Got a name picked out?"

"Actually, he's already named them all. So I can have Lucy, Linus, Rerun, Schroeder or Marcie."

I contemplate this for a moment. "I was always kind of partial to Rerun, myself."

"That's younger sibling syndrome," he points out.

"I was closer to a middle child," I remind him. "_You're_ the one who's a little brother."

"By two minutes," he protests. "After meeting the kittens, I'm leaning toward Schroeder, anyway. He seems a bit…different."

"You want a 'different' cat?"

"I like quirks. I like quirky music. I like quirky art. I like you – you're quirky."

"Thanks, I think," I respond, dryly. "Schroeder it is, then."

We lapse into silence after this, listening to the relatively poor music while Phil continues to massage my feet. No-one is glaring covetously at our couch anymore, at least.

"What did you go home to do today?" I ask, breaking the silence. It might be none of my business. But I want to know.

He sighs. "I went home today to do a few things."

I roll my eyes. "Like what?"

He bites his lip and stops playing with my toes, until I wiggle them and he continues. He's staring fixedly at my feet, running his fingers up and down them softly. I feel like this is a bizarrely intimate moment, that something important is happening here and I'll be darned if I know _what_. He's just staring at where his hands are playing with my feet, fixedly, thinking about god-only-knows what – my feet, his hands, anything, who knows.

"What are you going to do when you finish college?" he asks, not looking back up at me. "Where are you going to go?"

"I haven't made up my mind," I tell him. "I thought I'd go back to Bahia Bay. But now I'm not so sure."

He nods. "I spoke to Chaz Finster today. Kimi's dad."

I knew he was Kimi's dad without being told, but I decide to stay silent. He's obviously struggling with this as it is.

"I've organised with him and my mother that I'm going to take over Ma's third share of the Java Lava, and run it when I'm finished with college," he tells me, all of it coming out in a rush. "I'll have a third share with Chaz and Kira and eventually buy them out of it. I'll take over as manager next year to support myself while I try to get my career as an artist off the ground. I'm going to try and talk them into expanding – taking over the shop next door and setting up a book store or a record shop or something. It's a big move for me but I've been working at the Caffé for two years and practically running it for the last twelve months, and I know I can do this and work my art in around it. I kind of made a jump at the future and this is where I landed."

I nod, taking it all in. "So, you're staying in LA."

"Yes," he says, breathless after his little speech. "Yes. I'm staying here."

I want to stay here.

"That's incredible, Phil. That you have this plan and everything," I tell him. "I'm scared witless by this kind of stuff. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what I'm going to do when I finish this course, when I become a journalist. So, I'll be a journalist…and then what? Where do I work? What do I do? I've got no idea," I confess. All these fears, all of it, real problems I've been trying not to face, but him I'll tell them to. "But here you are, making it happen for yourself. I'm so happy for you."

"You'll find something," he tells me. "Yours is easy. So you find some newspaper and find a job and you work your way up. I can't believe I ever thought being an _artist _sounded like a good career move. I mean, _what_ was I thinking? I've put myself in the position of _having_ to manage somewhere like the Java Lava because how does an artist make ends meet without that kind of income? What if I _suck_? What do I have to offer –"

He cuts himself off.

I stare at him for a second, at this unrecognisable Phil DeVille – blonde, blue eyed and racked with insecurity, and I wonder if this is what I look like so much of the time. It's as if he has come as me after all, with all my worries and stressors bearing down on him as much as they are on me. He stares back at me, never breaking eye contact, clearly aching to say something but it's not coming for him.

" - anyone," he finishes, lamely, pulling back toward the far arm of the couch slightly.

"Did something else happen today?" I ask, aware I'm pressing when he's already uncomfortable but there's something more going on here, and I need to know what it is. I need to know what so I can know how to help him, so I can make it better for him, so I can work through it with him.

"A few things happened today," he tells me. He stares in my eyes, and I stare back at this eerily familiar stranger. "But I'm okay. It's okay. Kimi's moving to New York, you know."

I didn't. "What!"

"She got accepted to do an apprenticeship with some really prestigious costumers, or something, and she's going to New York for a while," he continues. "She just found out a couple of days ago."

I reach over and squeeze his shoulder, shock seeping through me. "How do you feel about that?"

He shrugs, leaning into my hand. "I dunno. We had a good talk. We talked _a lot_, actually. We decided – "

He cuts himself off again, and I can see him struggling with words behind the strange blue eyes. I desperately want to know what they decided but I know better than to push.

"We decided to see how things go," he finishes, a pained expression taking over not just his face but his whole body. "This is a big opportunity for her. We'll talk about the rest later."

I know there's a lot more to it than just that, but if he's not going to tell me, there must be a reason. If he'd broken up with Kimi, he'd tell me. I know he would.

"And that's okay with you?" I ask, far from convinced.

He nods, though, and lets an easy smile take over his features. One I'm not convinced by for a second, but I know enough to let it slide. "I'll be fine. I'll cross that bridge when the time comes." His hand pats me on the foot, and he goes to get up. "I'll go get us some more drinks."

I desperately don't want to lose the contact with him, and as I scramble for any excuse that doesn't sound stupid to stop him from getting up, the music changes and the lights go down. The venue's namesake lighting system comes to life and we are suddenly under a wash of stars, causing everyone to look up at the constellations we're suddenly seemingly surrounded by.

A guitar comes over the PA, louder than the music we'd been hearing so far tonight, and Phil breaks into a wide smile. "What do you know? A half-decent song at last."

"Well come on," I say, jumping at the opportunity. "Let's dance."

He looks at me, but I can't read what's going on behind the contacts. "Okay."

"Don't those hurt your eyes?" I ask, reaching up to touch them before realising what a stupid thing that is to do and pulling back, embarrassed.

"A bit," he confesses, his voice so low as to be barely audible over the music. He brushes his hands over his eyes carefully, withdrawing the fake lenses and depositing them in his old glass. "The wonders of modern technology. Any eye colour you want in six pairs for less than $20."

"I think you look strange with them on," I tell him as we move out to the floor, where a few other couples have already beaten us, dancing slowly under the stars to the sounds of Mick Harvey's cover of _Planetarium_, a regular part of the aural scenery here for obvious reasons, part of the bar's regular shtick.

I've never thought of dancing as romantic, really. Perhaps because for so long I've associated it with Phil, who, as I've already explained, is simply not on my romantic radar. But now, without realising it, I've broken through the little barriers my mind has placed up around him, and as I look into his eyes while we dance, and see _his_ eyes, not the contact lenses or the confusion or the insecurity that have clouded them all night, I realise that maybe, just because I never let myself think of something, doesn't mean it wasn't there.

Doesn't mean that he hasn't gotten in under my skin and certainly doesn't mean that I haven't started falling for him.

It just means that I control myself a lot better than most people.

So, I find myself dancing under the stars with this flawed, beautiful, insecure, confident, funny, stupid, forward-thinking, immature, best-friend I've ever had, and realising that I want nothing more than never to leave this spot, only to remind myself that _he has a girlfriend_, and all I've done now is let myself become attracted to someone I _can't_ have.

I stop staring into his eyes, because it's just making me more and more confused, and bury my head in his chest, trying to block out the confusing thoughts going through my mind. Trying to just focus on dancing, like it used to be, something we just did. Only it's not any more.

Because I saved us a couch, and he played with my feet, and I fell in love with him.

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Damn, you guys wasted _a lot _of time," Lil points out.

"Yeah, well…" I try not to think about it like that, just to focus on the good times we had, not that we could probably have been having good times _and _sex for a good six-months beforehand.

"Not a waste of time," Tish offers, from the seat she slipped into while I was telling the story. _After_ the part with her. She knew that already and I suspect had no interest in hearing it. "Just…a different way of getting to where you were going to end up anyway."

I smile at her.

"So you two made up not long after, I hope," Lil asks. "All things considered."

"We talked about it at Thanksgiving," Tish tells them. "With mixed results. Your brother," she tells Lil, "is a monumental idiot at times. That Thanksgiving was one of them."

"In Phil's defence – " I pause. "No, on second thought, there really was no defence. And hey – why am _I _trying to defend him?"

"Because you're being driven crazy by being in love," Kimi says.

"And I thought we were supposed to be learning things that we don't already know through these stories," Lil points out. "I already _knew_ Phil is a monumental idiot."

8 ---- 8

_alright, that's chapter 12. i really hope you liked it, there's more coming very very soon. Please review._

_Plus, there's this little post-script authors note:_

_Incidentally, it's not going to end at Tertiary, I want to tell you all. After Tertiary is finished (and it almost is, I promise) Lord Malachite and I are working on a sort of fanfic/sitcom thing called, at the moment, From Here On. It will be about Phil and Lor's life starting about six months after their wedding, and will feature a cast of characters who we hopefully won't write too badly. Basically, as much as I have enjoyed writing the story of how Phil and Lor got together, it has made me actually want to write them being together, so that's what's coming next. In endless AIM chats Lord Malachite and I have been vetting over characters, stories and scenes and I thank him for his patience from the bottom of my heart.  
_

_Here's a taste._

8 ---- 8

Lor McQuarrie DeVille enjoyed the fact that, even as recently married as they were, she and her husband had been able to establish their own little traditions. For example, they had a whole set of traditions that went with breakfast.

"Ma, yes, I ordered more milk."

She sat at the table and watched over her spoonful of corn flakes as the traditional, weekly battle between her husband and his mother recommenced.

"Ma, yes, I ordered more tea-bags." Phil was still only at the stage where he rolled his eyes a lot, which traditionally meant everything would be fine for at least another two questions. He was, however, gripping the butter knife quite hard. "Yes, Ma, I know I have to have fresh apples for the muffins."

His cheeks were getting red. It wouldn't be long now.

"Yes, Ma, of course the floor got mopped last night."

Lor began her traditional countdown. _Five, four, three, two, one_.

"Ma, my god! I can run the Java Lava, I've been doing it for _years_. Would you just relax and let me worry about it and _retire_ already! I'm perfectly responsible and I can do this _myself_. I love you. Goodbye." He pushed the _terminate_ button quite hard and, though the phone was a cordless and the move lost a lot of its impact, he slammed the handset down anyway before looking across the table at Lor, exasperated. "I still wonder when she's going to realise I'm not a kid anymore."

Lor just quirked an eyebrow and smiled at him. "I love the way you cut your toast into little soldiers, you know."

Phil looked down at his plate, then up at her with a smirk on his face. "Yes. Are you trying to make a point?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said, finishing the last of her cereal, getting up from the table before being caught and pulled back down into her husband's lap.

Yes, they had some fine traditions.

**From Here On - by Acepilot and Lord Malachite  
**

_**Coming this northern summer/southern winter, after "Tertiary"**_


	13. To Be By Your Side

**Tertiary**  
Acepilot

AN – Just to have a quick ramble here – this fic is now just a couple of chapters away from completion. While I can't believe it's taken so long, it also feels like it's ending oh-so-soon, and I can't quite believe that, either. As usual, thanks to everyone who reviewed, everyone who read, and as ever, thanks to Lord Malachite, who I hope has had a wonderful holiday.

Incidentally, this chapter contains a call-back to Chapter 4. I'll be interested to see if anyone picks it up – I came to the horrifying realisation that I posted Chapter 4 more than two years ago, so I don't blame anyone for forgetting.

Disclaimer – I know that these are really pointless (they provide no legal help whatsoever) so I often wonder why I put them here. Mostly out of habit, I guess. Anyway, KC and Disney own these characters, but you all know that already, huh?

8 - 8

**Chapter 13**  
To Be By Your Side

8 - 8

"I, of course, knew how this was going to end long before anyone else," Dil says, savouring an appreciative crowd. "I know, I know, it sounds arrogant, and people will say, 'oh, you're just saying that,' but I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was just back at high school, and Phil was just starting college, and I thought I'd call him. See how he was getting on. And he sounded like he was speaking with cotton in his mouth. He explained he'd met a girl, who had broken his nose, given him a black eye, and torn his favourite jacket. And the moment I heard that, I knew he was going to end up marrying her – even though he had a girlfriend at the time – because really, a meeting like that can only end up with a wedding or a law suit. And Phil was never the kind to put in the kind of time and energy required by a lawsuit. So, it is my duty as best man to raise a glass to Phil, who got his nose broken, to Lor, who will probably break it at least twice as often now that she's married to him, and to the wonderful life they're going to share together."

I knew he was going to tell that story but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing to hear, no matter how many years have now cruised by since the actual event. Nonetheless, it's quite touching, in a Dil sort of way, and I give him a hug after Phil does while everyone toasts us. When the rabble dies down, Dil picks up the microphone yet again.

"And now, I'd like to introduce the lovely lady heading the other contingent of guests tonight – remember, Tish, at the end of this you get your posse and I'll get mine and we'll rumble – ladies and gentlemen, Pedratishkovna Katsufrakis, maid of honour extraordinaire."

He gives an elaborate bow before passing the microphone over the top of mine and Phil's heads to a blushing Tish, who is rising from her seat and looking near ropable at the use of her full name, but is taking it with good grace. Besides, I think Dil's a bit tipsy, so she's more inclined to forgive him.

"Good evening," she greets the relatively small congregation, looking out over them and smiling broadly as she starts to come into her element. She was a bit nervous about this until Phil pointed out to her that it's got to be way easier than acting, which she copped to and after that it just became about memorising lines. "I hope you're all having a wonderful time. I know I am." She titters nervously for a second before gripping the microphone a bit harder and getting herself back on track. "I met Lor when we were just kids – really just kids, anyway – and I almost instantly knew that this was someone who I was going to be friends with. I knew we would drive each other nuts and I knew it wouldn't always be easy – and it wasn't – but I knew that Lor was someone who I could count on – and she always has been. She's one of the best friends I could ever dream of having, and it's been wonderful to be her friend for the last…well, twenty years, if I can say that without feeling ridiculously old. And so, as she is my best friend, I want to say that I'm happier for her than I think I've ever been before. To have found something so special with Phil – something that I think she was always meant to have with him, maybe even from the moment, yes, that she broke his nose – and to have made it permanent, that is truly something that we could all be envious of," she says, turning to face us. "Philip, Lauren – I hope that you promise never to take each other, or what you have together, for granted, because it truly is something special, and something that I'm glad to have seen come together for you. To the happy couple, may they live and prosper. And live a happy life together."

I feel myself tearing up a little as we toast again, Phil wrapping an arm around me and kissing me on the forehead. "Never take you for granted. I think I can remember that."

I smile and lean into him, but watch Tish as she smiles back at me and takes her seat. I wonder if she's thinking about what I'm thinking about. Taking friendship for granted is something I've had problems with in the past, of course. And something I'll never do again.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I lean on the frame to the kitchen doorway, watching as Tish moves determinedly around the room. This year she drew the cranberries as her duty for Thanksgiving, and she's evidently decided to make the best damn cranberry sauce anyone's ever seen, lest Thanksgiving be ruined. I am similarly stressed about ruining the meal, as I was cursed with that bugbear of all jobs, setting the table. Hopefully it'll be hard to ruin the meal with that kind of duty, but hell. Accidents happen.

Thanksgiving at Tino's has become something of a tradition for the four of us. Tish's parents never really got the Thanksgiving thing down, and Carver's family these days are barely worth the bother – his parents are perpetuating a marriage that should have ended years ago, his brother is still a brat and his sister is now more often than not around at my house, where they have enough mouths to feed anyway that they'll never miss me if I'm gone. So for the last few years of high school, and now since we got into college, I make the obligatory appearance at home before heading out to Tino's for the actual meal, with Tino, his mom, Tish and Carver. We each draw a job out of the hat and away we go. This year, however, we added an extra place to the table, and therefore an extra job – setting the table. It's a real half-assed attempt to make somebody useful, but I'm definitely not complaining.

I've not spoken to Tish since the week before Halloween, when we fought in the pizza place. I've tried to call a million times, I've rung the first six digits a million times, and a million times I've wussed out. This is not the kind of thing I can fix over the phone, no – this kind of apology is required in-person.

And now, here we are. In person.

"Hey Tish," I venture, worriedly.

She doesn't turn for a second, but I can see her tense up from behind. "Hey, Lor."

When she finally does turn to face me, I look her, quivering, in the eye, unable to make out the expression on her face and hoping like hell that it's not a precursor to big, screaming anger.

We stand there in silence for what must be nearly a full minute, her with cranberries in her hand and me unarmed, not that cranberries are really much of a weapon, but their presence still leaves me feeling oddly vulnerable.

The silence drags on and on and I can feel it filling the room, like a big bubble of silence expanding between us. Finally I can't resist any longer and I have to pop the bubble.

"So, I think you were right. I am attracted to Phil," I tell her, feeling a weight lift off my chest. "I didn't realise it, maybe I didn't want to, but…you were right. I'm sorry."

And with the bubble burst, Tish crosses the room and throws her arms around me. "Oh, Lor. _I'm _sorry. I _never_ should have said those things about you. I knew you'd never do that kind of thing and I was just jealous and angry and…look, I'm really, really sorry."

"But I should have listened to you," I insist, refusing to be sidetracked from my remorse no matter how gratifying it is to share hers. "You were right, as ever, and I wouldn't listen to reason. Well, you were right about an awful lot of it, anyway," I amend, not wanting to go too far overboard with this whole apologising thing.

"Let's just saw we both let emotion get the better of us and promise not to do it again," she suggests, squeezing me so tight as to cut off air.

I pat her on the back and wheeze out, "Yeah. That's it exactly."

Finally she releases me and I try not to be too obvious about inhaling. She smiles at me. "So, we're cool?"

I nod, "The coolest."

"Excellent." She finally puts the cranberries down in a saucepan with some other ingredients I can't immediately identify. "So, you brought Phil home for Thanksgiving. Is this the first time he's been here?"

I haul myself up onto the bench opposite the stove where she's working. "Yeah, he's never come back to the bay with me before."

She smiles at me. "And how is it going? Your brothers scare him off yet? 'If you ever hurt her I'll break you legs' kind of stuff?"

I raise an eyebrow. "They seemed to like him…okay. They're a bit wary of him being an artist, but why would they threaten him? I thought we established that Phil and I are _not_ involved, even though my feelings for him might have changed?"

Tish's face shows utter confusion for a moment. "Yeah. I…yeah. You're not involved. Still." She shakes it off and smiles at me. "Sorry, I just meant…you know, your brothers, kind of known for jumping to conclusions."

"They're a bit impulsive, true, I guess," I agree, feeling a bit like I'm the one not in on some kind of elaborate joke. "But they mostly behaved themselves. He held his own in a game of basketball, so apparently he's a worthy friend."

"Good to hear it," she tells me, turning to the stove and stirring her cranberries.

Taking Phil home was a pretty interesting experience all round, actually. For a start, I learnt the hard way that some things about home are never quite the same when you come back to it after any major time away. My brothers, for one. Even the young ones are getting so…old. Still younger than me, but I'm 22 now, for crying out loud, and they're...well, they're all in their teens, which just makes me feel even older. I can remember when a few of them were born, and when someone you can remember being born is describing to you how he skipped school and got illegally drunk with friends, then you start to feel _really_ old.

My room was another. I decided to show Phil my room, as long as we were there. "I was the only girl," I explained to him, leading him to the door, "so I got my own room. One of the few perks of being the only female in a family of boys."

I flung open the door to find bunk-beds where my desk used to be, posters of sportsmen who I would never follow in a pink fit and a distinct odour of socks. James and Terry had apparently moved in since I went to college.

Phil looked over my shoulder. "Well, clearly. I love the feminine touches you added to the place."

Introducing him to my dad was another chore unto itself – despite my protests to the contrary to Tish, I'm very aware that this trip has a bit of a 'bringing my boyfriend home to meet everyone' vibe, and I wonder if we gave off that impression when I went to see his friends and family summer before last. Dad was not terribly impressed by Phil, commenting on his pale complexion, his seemingly permanently paint-stained hands and his low bodyweight and muscle, openly pondering why he had chosen a career as an artist when there were "so many practical jobs going around". This was not all that encouraging.

I realise that Tish and I have come to a pause in the conversation, one I'm slightly fearful of as we're kind of on tenterhooks here as it is. If we can't keep finding things to talk about, is that a sign that we haven't mended anything? Or is it good that we're comfortable enough with each other that we don't have to babble mindlessly?

"You know I'm not getting back together with Tino, right?" My mind has apparently opted for babbling mindlessly without my approval.

She looks up from her cranberries. "Yes, I know."

"Good," I tell her. "Good."

She looks at me oddly. "Are you giving me approval or something?"

I shake my head rapidly. "Oh, no, no, no." It then strikes me how that must have sounded. "I mean yes. I mean –" Ugh. "No, I'm not giving you approval because I don't think for a second that my feelings should have any bearing on whatever is between you and Tino. I'd just hate to see you…I dunno…hold back or something because you were trying to be loyal or something. I just want you to know that I'm not going to be hurt if you and Tino have something…happen."

We stand there for a moment, staring at each other, me breathing a bit heavily from my mindless babbling and her staring at me with a stunned look on her face, before she finally reaches out and pulls me into another hug, dragging me off the bench. "I kinda love you, you know."

"I like to think so," I tell her.

She smiles at me a little sadly. "I think it'd be okay for you, too, you know. With the whole…loyalty thing. No-one would be hurt."

I let that roll around in my head for a moment but no matter how much I try to work it out it still makes absolutely no sense to me. Before I can question her on it, however, the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from the doorway, and we turn to see Phil standing before us, a smile on his face. "You know, for most this wouldn't be that unusual a sight, but I'll admit to being a bit baffled by finding the two of you…in a kitchen."

I stick out my tongue at him. "I am not that bad a cook."

"You could be the greatest cook in existence but the world would never know," he points out. "It's a good thing you've got me around to feed you."

"Yes. It is."

Tish just looks at me oddly but Phil beams, coming in from the doorway and pouring a glass of water from the pitcher Tino's mom left out. "So, what led you girls to this hot-pot of social interaction, truly the hottest locale in Bahia Bay?"

"Cranberries," Tish indicates her sauce, which she returns to stirring.

"Fetching the salt and pepper," I tell him, "but actually I'm providing invaluable assistance to Tish."

"You've gotta watch those cranberries. Always best tackled with help," he suggests, stealing my spot on the bench. "So, you two all good now?"

I smack him on the knee. "Nice one, Captain Subtlety." I didn't really want Tish to have to know that yes, I told Phil that she and I were fighting, that I unloaded on him about her, that he's here to support me if I need it while I try to fix things. Some things are better left…unsaid. Even though it might as well be said by default, anyway – I tell Phil everything, and I don't think that's any kind of secret. I trust him. More than anyone.

He grins at me. "As ever, Mistress Sarcasm. Sorry. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't intruding."

"You're not," Tish tells him. "We're good. Really. Do you know where Tino's mom keeps the vegetable peeler? I can't find it anywhere."

I turn to face her. "No, sorry."

"I put it in the dishwasher," Phil says. "I drew dessert out of the hat – I made crumble. I needed it for the apples."

As Tish pulls the peeler out of the dishwasher and instead washed it by hand, I feel Phil's hands reach out and grab my shoulders, and I lean back into him, letting him gently rub my neck. His forehead presses against the back of my head. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm okay." Part of the reason I brought Phil – the part I'm was willing to admit, anyway – was that I was a bit scared of coming home to a frosty reception – Thanksgiving at Tino's is a tradition, but this is the first since we broke up, and I wasn't exactly sure how awkward it was going to be for us or everyone else. Not to mention my fight with Tish, which had left me completely messed up. I needed someone here this year who would be there for me if Tish and I couldn't make up, and Tino wouldn't talk to me, and his mother was angry and me for hurting her son. Phil was the obvious choice.

The other part of the reason is that I just like spending time with him. This leaves me odd feelings of guilt and conflict, especially since Kimi left for New York and I came to my own realisations about how I feel in regards to Phil. That said, he certainly never discourages our spending time together – in fact, recently, he seems to have become a bit more…physically demonstrative in regards to our friendship – things like backrubs, curling up together on the couch, playing with my feet and hair. It's nice, definitely, but it probably isn't helping with the 'other woman' vibe I've been getting for a while. Ever since Tish brought it up before Halloween, really.

It's not until I hear Tish clear her throat that I realise that we've been standing here in complete silence, his hands running up and down my upper arms while I lean back into him, with an audience.

I'm glad he can't seem my face because I'm probably blushing like a schoolgirl and he doesn't need to know that I'm flooded with embarrassment, caught luxuriating in this simple act of friendly affection.

He clears his own throat while I stare at my feet. "Right. So, I'll just put the crumble on and let you girls get back to…talking."

I don't look up and merely listen to him open the fridge, fish out his crumble and put it in the oven. I'm a horrible, horrible person. I totally let myself slip into the fantasy – that he was my boyfriend, that we were sharing a quiet moment, that he could yet kiss me before he leaves the room…

I've never been like this. Not over a guy. Not since I was twelve, anyway.

He deposits the turkey, which he has exchanged for his crumble, on the bench. "I'll let Tino know his bird is done," he says, and I finally look up. His eyes are shifting everywhere and he's more than a little red himself. God. I've got him thinking that he's cheating on Kimi or something. I'm giving off vibes! Oh, this is bad.

"Well, I'm almost done here," Tish tells him, pulling her cranberries off the heat. "We'll be ready for dinner shortly."

"Excellent. I'll see you there," he says, before escaping out into the lounge room as fast as his feet can carry him.

Tish immediately swings around to pit me with a stare. "Alright. What the hell was that about?"

I contemplate playing dumb, but that never works with Tish. "Like you've never been close to a friend."

"I don't feel guilty about it afterwards," she points out, before pointing at the door. "Why would he –"

"I don't know what's going on, alright? It's like since Halloween, we've gotten so much closer, and part of that closeness is maybe touching a bit more often than we used to. It's just sort of become habit. Comfortable. Comforting. And maybe, in light of recent revelations, I've been enjoying it a bit too much. And now I guess he's picking up on that and it's…effecting him."

"Yeah, I picked that part up," she tells me. "You told him we were fighting."

I boggle at the sudden topic shift. "Yes. We tell each other everything."

"Everything," she repeats.

"Well, nearly everything," I amend. "I mean, I didn't tell him all of what the fight was about. But…it would have just opened up a can of worms between us."

"You have to tell him how you feel about him, Lor. You're not making a good situation by dancing around the topic," she advises me, pouring her cranberries into a waiting bowl.

I groan. "We've been over this. Yes, I'm attracted to Phil. And yeah, we're best friends. I trust him with…well, pretty much everything. But, well, I've been down this road before. I don't want to have with Phil what I've now got with Tino – that awkwardness, that distance between us. It hurts, and I don't want to risk losing the closeness that Phil and I have. And anyway- _he's with Kimi_. And I'm not getting in the middle of that."

She looks at me incredulously and pinches the bridge of her nose. "But Lor – "

"So," Tino's mom's voice cuts between us as she appears in the doorway. "Are we ready for dinner?"

8 - - - - - 8

My fears about the meal go largely unfulfilled – Phil sits next to me at dinner to support me, but Tish and I have already made up, Tino's mom isn't really mad at me after all and Tino and I are mostly fine – our conversation is littered with lengthy, awkward pauses, sure, but nothing we can't get over. Tish is watching me and Phil a bit oddly, like she's trying to work out a puzzle with a missing piece or something, but I'm determined to believe I'm just imagining it.

"So," Carver cuts into my thoughts, "the next morning I find my clothes down by the pond, neatly folded, in a nook on the upper branches of a thankfully fairly low tree. Had some pretty embarrassing scratches to explain to the doctor."

"You never learn, do you?" Tino ribs him.

"Hey, they're all wonderful women. I'd hate to hurt them by depriving them of the wonder that is me," he defends himself.

"Clearly they have no such compunction about hurting you," I point out, smiling widely. It's great having everyone together again. I know I only saw them all a month ago, but these people used to be all I knew. They were my friends. It was never a question of what would _I _do this weekend, but what would _we_ do this weekend.

I guess that hasn't changed so much. Only now the _we_ is me and Phil.

Seeing him here, in my world, my environment, my home, is so weird. I've been watching everyone's reaction to him – and his reaction to everyone – so closely, because this is so foreign. None of the four of us have ever brought someone home before – Carver was trying to seduce Tish, so probably would have smacked of poor tactics, while Tino and I were together – so I feel strange to have brought him. Again, it's the bringing the boyfriend home thing – as if I feel like we're going to just announce midway through the meal that we're engaged to be married and deliriously happy being with each other.

Except he's with Kimi.

I'm dragged from my internal conflict when Tino's mother clears her throat. Apparently I'd killed the conversation after my little joke about Carver – maybe it was my turn to talk again and I missed the cue. We're all sitting in this strange silence when finally she drags us out of it. "So, Phil. Tino showed me the reviews of your art in the SLA paper. You seem to be trying some innovative stuff."

Phil goes bright red at being made the centre of attention and, unconsciously, I slip my hand beneath the table and grasp his, squeezing it. He doesn't turn to look at me but gets a bit of a silly grin on his face nonetheless and some of the excess of colour drains from it. "Yeah, well, I would just get so bored if I only ever did the coursework. I've been trying this thing with candles, actually…but it's hard to explain. Maybe you can come and see it when I'm a famous artist."

"They're always looking for exhibits at the gallery here in Bahia," Tish comments, pointing out the window with her fork, as if trying to explain that's where the gallery is. "Anyway, I'm sure it'll be different. I can't wait to see some of your work."

He just smiles at her in appreciation, and finally lets go of my hand. I hadn't realised I was still holding his.

We've fallen back into silence again, six of us around the table racking our brains for some kind of conversation. It's Tino who breaks it at last, but not speaking to me or Carver or Tish or even his mother, no, he chooses to address Phil, of all people.

"So, Phil, I was kind of surprised we didn't see you at Kimi's going away party," he says, picking idly at his yams. "It was a pretty impressive do – half the theatre department turned out. You guys couldn't make it to Oakland, huh?"

I raise an eyebrow. I hadn't actually heard anything about a going away party for Kimi – certainly not one that half the theatre department of CAA might have been invited to. Phil just looks down at his plate before clearing his throat. "Ah…no, I couldn't make it."

"Pity," Tino says.

I look at Phil closely. The blush from before has returned to his face and he's very slowly, determinedly cutting up a piece of turkey on his plate.

"It's a pity she's gone, but I understand why. I mean, if you get an opportunity like that, you take it, huh?" Tino continues, clinging to this line of conversation while Phil seems to be desperately uncomfortable with it. Tino is so determined he hasn't noticed, however.

"Yeah, you do," Phil agrees.

"Anyway," Tino says, "it was a real shame you had to miss the party. I mean, I know you guys broke up and everything –"

Phil's fork hits his plate with a jarring noise and he immediately stops moving. There is a wince on his face, he is very carefully not looking at anything other than the turkey on his plate and the grip he has on his cutlery is turning his knuckles white.

Tino has taken the hint by the sudden wave of tension and gone silent. Tish's jaw has dropped open, her hand clamped over her mouth as she finally works out the puzzle and I get there too – she knew about this. That's why she kept at me about Phil – because she knew before I did that he and Kimi _aren't_ together, and that the path has been clear for me for god knows how long. Carver and Mrs. Tonitini are just watching the rest of us with confused but nonetheless worried expressions on their faces. They may not be entirely clear on what's going on but it wouldn't take a genius to work out that there was something odd happening here.

"You and Kimi broke up?" I ask, not even raising my voice, but he knows this is bad – it's written all over his face.

He puts down his knife and fork and takes a few deep breaths to compose himself before turning to face me, a solemn expression on his face. "Yes."

"When?" It's really irrelevant, but I have to know.

"Halloween," he tells me. "The afternoon of Halloween."

A million thoughts run through my mind – I could have told him how I felt that night, I could have kissed him on the dance floor; he's been so close to me since then, is this some kind of prelude on his part to something between us; could we have been together for the last month and happy – but one thing overrides them all in my mind.

"And you didn't tell me," I observe, feeling oddly detached from the situation, like I'm watching a bunch of strangers have a conversation over Thanksgiving dinner.

"No, I didn't," he admits.

"You didn't tell _me_," I repeat, feeling the whole situation come back to me. He didn't tell me. He didn't trust me? He didn't think it was important to me?

He closes his eyes, apparently unable to look at me any longer. "I was going to tell you."

"When? When you got with someone else? When Kimi came home with a new boyfriend? When you damn well felt like it?" I feel myself snap, and everything just comes pouring out of me, aimed at him. "Don't you trust me? Don't you think I'd care? I tell you everything! I need – "

I need to know he won't hurt me, I need to know he trusts me, I need to know that he cares about me the way I care about him. And now I think that he doesn't, because why the hell would he keep something like this from me? All the possibilities that I'd been thinking about are erased from my mind in the light of this little revelation, all replaced with one thing – he didn't want me to know about this, so what can that say about our friendship.

I choke off mid-sentence, looking down at my plate, unable to look anyone in the eye. I can't sit here any more in this silence, I can't sit here with him next to me, because I want to look at his face but I don't want to see him right now. I get up out of my chair and walk, in slow, determined strides, away from the table, up the stairs, storming into Tino's room almost out of instinct and flinging myself face down on the bed. I never look back at the room I've left, and all I hear is Tino's mom saying, "Well."

He broke up with her. And didn't tell me. I'm struggling here with which is more important in my head.

Moments later the door opens and without looking up I know who it is. "I can't believe it," I tell her. "How stupid am I?"

"You're not stupid," Tish tells me, closing the door behind her. The late afternoon sun is just creeping in through the closed blinds, but she doesn't turn the lights on. "You're just…emotional."

"Much of a muchness, you ask me," I point out. "I mean, so what? I spend two and a half years becoming best friends with this great guy, and then, after telling myself I shouldn't, after telling myself he's totally off limits, I finally come to the conclusion that he's totally perfect for me, and I let myself fall for him. And then what? I find out he's _lying_ to me about something _huge_ going on in his life."

Tish sighs. "Don't bite my head off or anything here, okay, but…maybe you need to remember that it is…well, his life we're talking about here? You guys aren't a couple – well, not yet."

"But I tell him _everything_," I remind her. "I trust him more than – well, these days, pretty much more than anyone." I groan, rolling over to face her. "Don't take that the wrong way, huh? I love you and trust you and everything, but…well, when you go off to college, I guess, things change, and one thing that changed was that, as close as the four of us always were, and still are – "

"We're not there," she finishes for me. "We're not there, and you found someone who was, who you trust, and who you…well, love."

"Yeah, I did," I agree. "But he doesn't trust me, clearly."

She sits down on the bed next to me and pats me on the shoulder. "He does. He missed Thanksgiving with his family to be here for you. He dyed his hair blonde out of admiration for you. He loves you."

"Then why didn't he tell me about him and Kimi breaking up?"

"Maybe he's sacred," she suggests. "Maybe he's scared about how things will change between you."

"Well, he's welcomed to the club!" I groan, reaching up and running my hands through my hair until I hit pillow. "I'm scared witless about how things will change between us. If he even wants them to. He's my best friend. I'm closer to him than I ever was to Tino – he's what's kept me going these last few years. When I left Bahia Bay I was so scared of the world, I was so lonely without you guys, but then I met him, and it was like – yes. Here's a person who I can relax with again, who I can be friends with. And he was. He's my _best friend_." I realise that there are tears starting to leak out of my eyes, and I feel an overwhelming sense of frustration at that. I don't want to cry over this. I don't want to cry over anything. I don't _cry_. I haven't cried since Tino and I broke up. I never even cried when we fought. "See!" I exclaim, slapping the mattress so hard it leaves us bouncing a little. "This is exactly the problem! We're not even a couple and I trust him so much that something like this leaves me in tears. I…I've never felt like this about anyone, I've never let myself or something, but here I am – a wreck over some guy who clearly means a lot more to me than I mean to him. What if we did get together? What would I do when it ended? Who would pick me up? He'd be gone. He picked me up when I broke up with Tino and kept me going, you know. But he doesn't want me to do that for him – he got through breaking up with Kimi on his own, apparently. I don't even rate the knowledge that she's gone."

I'm rambling, babbling hopelessly. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Half of what I'm saying contradicts the rest of it and I know that it's all ultimately nonsense, but it's all very convincing nonsense which is racing through my head at a million miles and hour.

"I don't know why he didn't tell you," Tish cuts into my thoughts, probably trying to get the conversation back to some semblance of normality. "But, and I know I barely know him or anything, but I know that if he'd needed anyone to help him through a hard time in his life, he'd turn to you. Maybe that's what he's done, anyway. You said it yourself – he's closer to you this last month. And it's comfortable. Comforting. Maybe that's what he's needed. You didn't need to know what had happened. You just needed to be there for him, like you always are, to make things better. Lor, what you've got with Phil is something incredibly special, and someday it'll be something more. Trust me. I know you're hurting right now, but I guess the question is – will you let this hurt scare you off from something really amazing, just because you're scared of getting hurt again?"

8 - 8

I desperately need some time away from Phil, but I don't have that luxury – we have to get home for classes tomorrow, and he's my ride from Bahia Bay back to LA. Which means hours on end in a car with him, alone.

There is no conversation. Absolutely none, because I'm not speaking to him and he knows better than to try and start now. So we're sitting in utter silence except for the music, which at this moment has just become "To Be By Your Side" by Nick Cave, a song I can't help but feel is altogether inappropriate for the current situation. So I decide to break the silence at last. "Can we listen to absolutely anything else?"

He looks at me cautiously, evidently wondering if this means we're speaking again.

"I've got a copy of 'Murder Ballads' in here somewhere if you really want the music to match the mood," he offers, but pops the disc out of the player obligingly.

I just raise an eyebrow and turn back to watching the California dusk zoom past the window. He doesn't put on the new CD so we just sit in increasingly tense quiet, the only sound being the motor and us breathing.

"I'm still mad at you," I tell him, not looking over at him. He should be watching the road anyway, the idiot.

"I'd worked that out," he informs me. "It was a tough puzzle, but I got there in the end."

"You're not allowed to make jokes about this. I'm serious."

"I get that, Lor. I very much get that. But I'm also finding it hard to apologise when you don't seem interested in listening to me."

"You lied to me."

"Well, I thought if I told you that we broke up and I was okay with it, you'd think I was lying to you, trying to hide how hurt I was, and I really wasn't that hurt. So, yeah, I just thought I'd say everything was okay."

"Let me get this straight - you thought if you told the truth, I'd think you were lying, so you lied to me to prevent me from thinking I was being lied to?"

Phil absorbs this for a second. "It all made a lot more sense in my head."

"Yeah, well, someday you'll have to explain to me what goes on inside that head of yours. I frequently doubt even you know."

He sighs, his eyes on the road, but even so I can see him struggling with this. "I'm sorry, Lor. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think it through very well - well, obviously not - but I really was never meaning to hurt you. I'd have told you. Just...not then. We were having such a nice time, and I was really not feeling that bad about it, and I didn't want to ruin the evening for us by bringing up something that was just going to lead to tears and confusion."

"Well, it's led to tears and confusion now," I tell him, huffing and looking away again.

There's a long pause - not a silence, but a pause. There's a subtle difference.

"Did you cry?" he asks.

Disregarding the fact that he's driving, I reach over and hit him on the head, causing him to flinch away and give a slight cry. "'Every time you say something stupid, I'm going to hit you on the back of the head'," I throw back at him, but I can now hear the tears in my own voice and I know it's a lost cause. I just really needed to hit him in that moment.

He doesn't say anything. It's not his turn. We both know it.

"Yes, I cried," I tell him.

"I'm sorry."

"I trusted you, Phil. I...I needed you so badly when things went to hell for me and Tino. That whole time between the Chum Bukkit show and the Ball...you were my rock. And I needed you more than anything. And now...what? You don't need me?"

"I'll always need you," he tells me. "That night I needed you to help me have a good time. That night I needed to just be there with you and enjoy the moment, and enjoy the future, and I just needed it to not be about Kimi. Yes, I should have told you, but even though you didn't know it, you've gotten me through a lot in the last month, and I couldn't do it without you. I don't seem to work quite right without you around anymore, Lor. Of course I need you."

I wipe a tear away from my eye, and without thinking reach across to brush one from his. He grabs my hand in his own, keeping one on the wheel and squeezing my fingers tight with the other. "Well, I need you too, you dope. I need to be there for you. And I'm still hurt by this."

"I know," he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter and not letting go. "And I'm still sorry."

I feel our fingers slip together, interweaving, and I squeeze back. "This can't be how we work, Phil. It can't be more for one of us than it is for the other."

"It's not," he says, taking his eyes off the road for a split second, and I can see the honesty in them. "I love you."

My heart seems to skip a beat and it's so noticeable that I'm sure he can feel the lack of pulse in my fingers. He's said this to me before, of course, but now, this time, I can feel that maybe, just maybe, it's something more than just the friendship we've shared in the past, more than the care that he showed for me when Tino and I broke up. There's something there between us now - something deeper. He didn't tell me that Kimi and he broke up because he didn't want me to dwell on it as much as he didn't want to dwell on it. A million ideas race through my mind about what this could all mean but I decide that now is not the time to try and work it all out. Because now I know - now I know what might come, what can happen. I know that this isn't entirely in my imagination, it's not just me, it's him, too. Whatever happens, will happen, but at least now I can rest easy knowing that it will.

"I love you too," I tell him, the words coming out of my mouth for the first time and seeming so foreign but I know I need to say them.

He turns to look at me, a little incredulously. He seems to have a million things he wants to say, but he leaves them all and turns back to the road - he knows what it means too, and I wonder how long it's been real for him. _Did he and Kimi break up over_ - I kill that thought before it has a chance to sprout. I don't think it's true, but even so I'm not so sure I want to know.

He didn't tell me about him and Kimi for a lot of reasons - more than I 'm sure he'll ever admit to, but I can take a guess at a few. I just hope it's because he didn't want us to rush, because I know if he'd left himself open to the idea of us on that night I'd have caved like a cheap suitcase, and we can't have it that way - no, we need to take this slowly. And there's nothing wrong with taking things slowly. Just so long as you know that you'll get there in the end.

8 - 8

_alright, just two chapters to go, and the next one is coming very soon (it's already half-written as I pen this) so I hope you'll all stick it out and enjoy it with me. Any and all reviews are appreciated. Thanks as ever to Lord Malachite. And here's another little promo spot for the forthcoming "From Here On", your reward for getting through the chapter._

8 - 8

The sound of tapping feet was slowly driving Phil insane.

"Could you possibly do that anywhere else?"

Reggie glanced over at him. "But then you'd be all alone."

"I think I could survive it," he told her.

She sighed and started pushing herself around the Java Lava on his favourite wheely chair. "You know, you need something for customers to do in here. I'm way bored."

"I feel for you, really. Aren't you meant to be some kind of journalist? Shouldn't you, I dunno, be writing something?"

She appeared to have not heard him, bringing her chair to a halt facing the front window. "You see that bin next to the counter?" she called without turning around.

He glanced at it. "Yeah?"

She grabbed a newspaper off the nearby table and scrunched a page of it up into a ball. "I'll bet I can get this ball into that bin, first go, without turning around."

Phil looked between the bin and Reggie. "Nah. Can't be done."

"Then take the bet. Five bucks?"

"Five bucks," he agreed.

She took her shot. It missed, half-a-foot short.

"I don't understand it," she muttered angrily. "I should have made that, it was perfect."

"Do you want a coffee?" he asked, beginning to assemble one as she placed the $5 on the counter. "You know why you missed?"

"Wind interference? Poor hindsight?"

"You're getting old, Reggie. You just…aren't up to it anymore." He handed her the coffee, took the $5 bill and put it in the till. "That and I saw you practicing that all day yesterday, so I moved the bin back six inches this morning. Muffin, on the house?"

_From Here On – by Acepilot and Lord Malachite_

_Coming soon._


	14. But For One Crowded Hour

**Tertiary**

Acepilot

Authors Note – Alright, so this is what it's all been leading to. This chapter was first sketched out over a year ago, and basically everything written from Chapter 7 onwards was worked out around this idea of Chapter 14 (or as it was then, Chapter 10 – the story got longer). It's rewarding to have gotten here at last.

I want to thank **Fletty** for one of the most touching reviews I've ever received, and **Acosta** for unwavering dedication. You guys rock. And massive thanks to everyone who's read the story thus far. Only one chapter to go after that…and then on to the follow up…Hope you all enjoy it. And as ever, thanks to **Lord Malachite**.

Oh yeah – the soundtrack is pretty important in this chapter – specifically, the songs _There Is No Such Place_ and _One Crowded Hour_ by Augie March. The latter being where the fic gets it subtitle (and this chapter's title) from.

8-8

Chapter 14

**But for One Crowded Hour…**

8-8

I feel a pair of arms wrap around me from behind as I watch couples – romantic and otherwise – twirling on the dance floor. The few friends we invited from dance class are immediately obvious but everybody seems to be enjoying themselves, which is really all I was hoping for.

"How're you holding up?" Phil asks me as I lean into him, evoking a strong sense of déjà vu.

"Fine. Bit tired. Having fun." I turn in his arms and kiss him softly. "Can't wait for this honeymoon thing I keep hearing about. It's supposed to be a pretty good time, from what I've been told."

"Let's hope the rumours are true," he agrees, leaning down and nuzzling into my neck. "Thanks for marrying me."

I smack him on the back of the head – albeit softly. Wouldn't want to actually hurt him when there's so much to look forward to this evening. "You don't have to thank me for that, boofhead."

"I know. I guess I just…you know, I need you to know that this means…so much to me. After everything we've been through, I know this seems like just another step in the road, but…really, it's –"

I cut off his ramble with another kiss. "I get it. Trust me."

He smiles at me broadly and sighs. "I think it's about to be our turn on the floor."

"You nervous?" I ask.

"Oh, no," he tells me. "You?"

"After all the times we've danced?" I point out. "Do you think I _should _be nervous?"

"Well, we never danced to this song," he states. "That night, we _danced_ to 'There Is No Such Place'. This came on after."

"True. But what we did do to this song would probably be considered fairly inappropriate behaviour at our wedding reception."

He laughs and kisses me again, muttering, "Don't tempt me," even as an organ line picks up over the hall's PA. Dil's voice follows it. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I welcome for their first dance as a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Philip and Lauren DeVille."

Phil takes my hand and leads us out onto the floor, and as we stand there, the centre of attention, all I can focus on is him and the music. We've danced together hundreds of times, but never quite like this. Never, I guess, as husband and wife.

I always have a difficult time with the idea of being a wife because I guess I relate it to marriages like you see on TV and things, where everyone is in their cheery happy nuclear family and for me that always seems like a great way to stop having fun with life. But I'm 23 years old now and if there's one thing I've learned it's that fun changes slightly when you get older. I have as good a time now relaxing with Phil at home as we did going out when we were younger. We still play basketball and go out for drinks with friends, but we also have jobs and lives and what makes it work for me is that I get to do things with him, that we spend as much time together as possible, but not so much that we drive each other nuts. For us, this is just another step in the road, yes, but it's an important one, one that makes us permanent.

Like when we first got together: it might have been coming for miles off, but that doesn't make it any less incredible when it happens.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I open the door with a blissful sigh, glad to be simply finished with work – both schoolwork and my job – for a little while at least. Tonight is Christmas Eve, and I finally get to chill out at home, responsibility free, for at least a few hours. I shrug off my jacket as I let myself into the flat, which is far more warm and inviting than I was expecting it to be. Phil was meant to be working late at the Caffé tonight, but most of the lights are on, there is the sound of a live concert coming from the speakers and his boots are by the door. I slip my shoes off as well, but for all evidence of his presence, my erstwhile roommate is nowhere to be seen. "Phil? You here?"

"Kitchen," he responds, shouting to be heard over the music. I cross the room and join him in there, where he is putting the finishing touches on some sandwiches. He looks up and smiles at me. "Figured you should be home pretty soon – thought you might want something to eat. How was your shift?"

"Long. Dull. I think I've watched every video we have in that place," I tell him, "so I actually spent some time studying."

He looks aghast. "Will wonders never cease?" He hands me a now completed sandwich on a plate and leads the way into the lounge. "Everyone gone for the holidays, huh?"

"Yeah, it seems so," I concur. "Don't know who the owners thought would be renting videos this late on Christmas Eve, but they didn't show."

He grins. "Well, that's the fabulous world of retail for you. The Caffe was dead, too, so we just gave up and closed early. Thought that as long as I was home early I'd make dinner."

"Thanks." As much as I appreciate his thoughtfulness, it isn't doing anything to quell the confusion I feel in regards to my relationship with him. Ever since Thanksgiving, where we seemed to reach some sort of…understanding, I suppose I've been waiting. I know there's something between us, but still…nothing has come of it yet. It's like we're in a holding pattern. Albeit without so much holding. Holding would be really good right now.

We sit on the floor around the coffee table in the lounge – why we're not sitting on the couch I have no idea, this, for some reason, just seemed so natural – and eat quietly. The music is the only noise of note, something disturbingly country-sounding. After a while, with the silence starting to get to me a bit, I decide to comment on it. "What are we listening to, anyway?"

"It's a radio station I'm streaming off the net," he tells me. "They're just playing all these concerts they've recorded over the years – presumably so they can give most of their DJs Christmas off or something. This is Bernard Fanning."

"Sounds dangerously country," I tell him, setting down my empty plate. "You're not heading south on me, are you?"

He rolls his eyes. "He's a bit rootsy, I guess. This is just his solo stuff – he's usually rockier. Anyway, didn't you once sing _Home on the Range_ in a talent show?"

I glare at him. "How did you know that?"

"Tish has a big mouth," he tells me.

I groan. "Oh, god. 'Cause I wanted it to get around that I was beaten by Bluke. Throwing hams."

He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, that part she _didn't_ tell me. Throwing hams?"

"In the air. I think it was interpreted as avant-garde. Really it was just pretty ridiculous."

"I might steal it as a piece of performance art," Phil muses. "Anyway, it's always good to broaden musical horizons – "

"Hey – I've lived with you for eighteen months. My horizons are plenty broad. But I draw the line at country."

Phil seems to consider this for a moment. "Alright. Fair enough. As long as you make an exception for Johnny Cash. He's just too cool."

I smile at him. "You're a bit of a dork, you know."

He shrugs and smiles back. "Face it – you wouldn't have me any other way."

"No, I wouldn't."

So, here we are, in our holding pattern-sans-holding, and I kind of have to wonder – would he have me some other way? I'm almost dead certain he knows I'm attracted to him, so why haven't we taken the next step yet? Part of me worries that the reason is _me_.

I've never met Wally, or Amanda. But I know Susie and Kimi. So I'm quite conscious of the fact that two of his four ex-girlfriends are quite…feminine. Well, certainly, they are relative to me, anyhow. Maybe he's just not…attracted, physically. I've never been the girliest of girls, and even though I _still_ haven't cut my hair back to its regular length – I did finally admit that I was growing it out for the moment, however, and went to the hairdressers to get the ends tidied – I'm still hardly the most beautiful of girls.

The only time, in retrospect, that I've really blown him away with how I look was when I put on a dress. And let's face it, I don't do that very often. Maybe I should just resign myself to the idea that this isn't going to happen.

I realise suddenly that I've gotten quite lost in this train of thought, and have fallen completely silent for the last few minutes. I jerk awake and turn to face Phil, who is staring at me, but the expression on his face is not 'what the hell is wrong with you' – no, he's just…looking at me. Sandwich long finished, he has his legs tucked up against his chest while he watches me contemplate. When I come back to reality he smiles at me broadly.

"So, looking forward to Christmas tomorrow?" he asks, rocking back to lean against the sofa.

I shrug, gazing at our small, tackily over-decorated tree with our gifts for everyone under it. There was really no point to putting them there – I'm going to take mine to Bahia Bay, he's taking his back to his parents – but it does make the whole place feel a lot more…Christmassy. And like home. "Yeah, you know how it is. Family. Friends. All that jazz."

He nods. "I get that. Mom and Dad are hosting this year, but with everyone who will be coming I doubt their host duties will amount to anything other than opening the door. Didi will probably do all the cooking and ferry it in from next door."

"You guys do a big Christmas, huh?"

"Yeah, well, hybrid Christmas, Chanukah, etcetera. It's fun but chaotic, generally."

"Well, still can't be as big as our annual Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza/Solstice bash."

"Solstice?"

"Tino and his Mom are pagan."

"Fun."

"Eh. It's just another holiday, really."

We lapse into silence again for a few moments as another rousing song ends in rapturous applause before another, more sombre one takes its place. I become very conscious that he's watching me again as I pick at a thread on the rug. Finally he sighs and gets up. "Well, seeing as we probably won't be seeing too much of each other tomorrow, shall we do the Christmas thing now? Presents?"

I straighten immediately. "Presents!"

He grins. "Hang on. I'll go get yours."

"Ah, so you did get me something," I tease as I get to my feet as well. "There was nothing under the tree in those little bags for me."

"Well," he calls over his shoulder as he goes into his room to fetch the gift in question, "I can't wrap presents. And I knew if I left it in there in a gift bag, you'd peek."

He's right of course.

"Besides, I don't see one there for me, either."

Schroeder has been napping on my bed and rouses sufficiently to watch as I dig Phil's gift out from under the frame. "You'd have worked it out without peeking," I tell him, hauling the canvas under my arm, trying to make sure the smaller package within doesn't fall through the wrapping as I nudge the door open wider and return to the lounge with my bounty.

Across from me, Phil stands in his bedroom's doorway clutching a large gift bag. He seems to have paused there for some reason, before reaching back into his room and grabbing a small, badly wrapped package. He turns and sees me looking, smiles sheepishly, and motions to the living room again. "Shall we?"

"We shall," I concur, desperate to know what's in the smaller gift, but content to know that I'll find out in good time.

He takes a once-over of my present and grins mischievously. "I wonder what that might be."

I kick him softly in the shins as we sit back down, this time utilising the couch. "Shut up. So it was hard to disguise."

His devilish grin softens into a somewhat milder smile. "I'm not complaining. Thank you."

"You'd better open it, if you're going to start thanking me and stuff," I point out, settling back into the arm of the couch and pushing the long, wide present toward him. He takes it and tears into it with enthusiasm. I grin as I watch him, caught up in the joy of presents. He's like this every Christmas and I love the fact that he's never lost this kind of joyful innocence. "You're like a little kid sometimes, I swear," I tell him.

"Well, children are a bad influence on me," he says as he admires the smooth, clean canvas he's just uncovered. "Thank you," he repeats, genuinely appreciative despite what I worry is a pretty uninspired gift – but then he's always on about running out of supplies, so this year, I got him some.

He finally notices the smaller package that has fallen out from where it was tucked in with the canvas. He raises an eyebrow. "I get two?"

I shrug. "The canvas was just because I was in the art store getting your actual present. In there," I feel the need to clarify, thought surely he's already worked that one out.

He nods as he unwraps the smaller package, revealing a small box which he looks at in disbelief. "You didn't," he murmurs.

I did.

He opens the box and looks at his new, Winsor-Newton Watercolours with awe. "Wow, Lor…I…"

Every time we go into the art shop, he stares at the watercolours with reverence - I know he wants to experiment with them, but the oils he requires for his classwork mean he'll never actually buy half-decent ones for himself, always just getting cheap pans. They cost me more money than I spent on half my other presents put together, but the look of delight on his face is totally worth it.

Once upon a time, I would have bought something for myself, to make _me_ happy. But now just making him happy is enough to leave me all but buzzing.

Maybe that's love.

He comes back to himself a little. "Lor, thank you. Thank you thank you thank you." He puts the gifts down on the coffee table and leans across the couch to wrap his arms around me. I sink into the embrace, feeling him inhale and try to hold me tighter.

Despite my fears that he just isn't attracted to me, these kinds of moments don't become teases or foiled temptations – they're just simple affection, between friends – not building up my hopes to knock them down, but rather re-affirming the friendship we have, even if it never turns into more.

Finally, he lets go of me, and I decide I should probably do the same, but as I pull away his hand lingers on my arm for a moment before he finally pulls back.

"Alright. Your turn," he says, presenting me with the gift bag.

"A lot less fun to unwrap," I point out, teasing, "but just as rewarding in the end, I guess."

I reach into the bag and pull out a dark-purple Lakers jersey, numbered 19 – personalised, I realise.

Wow.

"Wow," I mutter. "Wow," I repeat a little more loudly. "Phil, this is…"

"Not as awesome as the paints, I know," he says, seeming chagrined for some reason. "I just –"

I leap across the couch and hug him again – just quickly, this time, not daring to hold him too long, because it's becoming harder and harder to resist temptations. I'm growing addicted to this closeness, I know, and I need to hold back if I hope for anything to really happen here.

"This is perfect. Thank you."

He grins at me, though still somewhat nervously. "Well…there's also this," he says, pulling out the smaller package. It's wrapped quite clumsily, though it is at least wrapped – and this close up I recognise what it is – one of the small paintings he's tucked into his presents for everyone else, which I had to help him wrap. He was obviously holding out on me. "I did them for everyone…different ones, obviously…it's kind of stupid….if you don't want it – I mean, you have to live with my paintings anyway – "

I snatch it out of his hand and smack him across the back of the head. "Saying stupid things, remember?" I prompt him, opening the painting a bit more carefully than he had opened the blank canvas. I've seen the other paintings, which varied from abstracts to still-life – each somehow significant to the intended recipient – so I'm keen to know what he deemed fitting to paint for me.

The over-complicated wrapping finally falls away, and I find myself staring at me.

The painting is about the size of a photo, and in it I'm sitting at the desk in my room, in the afternoon sun, not working but staring out the window, just out of shot, the only source of light in the room. I 'm cast in shadow as a result, with the room around me barely visible.

In the painting, I look enraptured with the outside world – probably dreaming of being out in it, instead of ostensibly studying – and there is a slightly dreamy though thankfully not goofy smile on my face. My hair is tied back and deeply golden in the shadow, and my eyes are sparkling.

He would, presumably, not have been able to get a perspective like that in reality, even if he climbed a tree outside my window – for a start, he'd have to plant one first. So, this is how he sees me in his minds eye, how I look to him, even if not in reality.

And in this picture, I'm beautiful.

I've never seen myself – in the mirror, in photos, in a passing glance at myself in a shop window – as beautiful. Plain. Ordinary. But here I am, wearing any old clothes and just pretending to study at my desk, and I look beautiful. Because this is how he sees me.

"Wow," I whisper again, unable to find any other word to express this feeling. "Wow."

"So…you don't think it's too stupid?"

I look up at Phil and see him sitting there, desperate to know what I think. I've never been the most articulate person on earth, but this is completely beyond me. On impulse I reach out and clutch his wrist. "It's…incredible."

He smiles. "Well, I try."

"Thank you," I tell him. "For this." For showing me something I needed to see, something I needed to know for sure. I feel him tug with his wrist and pull me toward him, pulling me into his arms yet again – maybe I'm not the only one addicted to touch. But this time, there is something different about it. It's not like the firm, comfortable embraces we've always shared – it's softer…and more intimate, somehow. He leans back into the arm of the couch, and I go with him – and I kiss him, softly, on the cheek. He reciprocates, just barely pressing his lips on my face, before sliding them across to touch my mouth, softly, like breathing moreso than kissing.

Kissing.

Then the music coming from the radio ends and applause cuts between us, practically driving us physically apart. We stare at each other, not speaking, barely breathing, but my inhaling and exhaling fill my ears, blending with the applause on the radio.

"That was Bernard Fanning on the Which Way Home tour," an announcer cuts in on our moment over the digital airwaves. "And now, staying back in 2006, we have Augie March, live at the Zoo in Brisbane."

Another, smaller round of applause comes over the speakers. We're still sitting here staring at each other, almost in shock. This is an important moment and we both know it – so where to from here? Here is where we either make a move together or move apart – again. I don't want to move apart. I can't let go now. But we need to ease the tension. We need to take this radical new step in our lives and make it something familiar.

I reach back out and lay a hand on his, drawing him in again. "Dance with me?"

He looks at me in fascination, still seemingly trying to come to terms with what's going on. "Yes."

The new act on the radio are playing a slow, sombre, pretty song on acoustic guitar and piano, and we stand up, hand in hand, and cross to the centre of the room. We don't break eye contact once as we stand in front of the Christmas tree, and he wraps an arm around my back in some semblance of a traditional formation.

We move slowly to the music – moves we know by heart and could perform in our sleep – most that let me focus on him rather than technique or rhythm or any other distractions. There's just me, and him, and the music.

"Twenty-eight months," I hear him murmur in my ear.

"Pardon?" I ask, baffled as my concentration falters slightly.

"Sorry," he says, "just thinking about…how long it's been. That we've known each other." His hand on my back goes through a little cycle of tensing and relaxing. "Two years and four months. It doesn't seem like so long when I think about it like that."

"It's not really," I point out. "Only a few years."

"Yeah, but it's like a whole other lifetime. I look at how much I've changed…it just seems like so long since high school that it's like my life started all over again."

"I see your point," I tell him. "I've changed too."

He smiles and reaches up to tug on my ponytail. "I see that." His hand doesn't return to the small of my back, but rather caresses the back of my neck softly. "It's what happens when you go through a big, life changing experience like college, I guess."

"Kind of does what it says on the tin, yeah," I agree, leaning into his chest as our dancing form evaporates, and we're just standing there, holding each other and swaying to the music. "But I wouldn't have wanted to go through it with anyone else."

"Anyone?"

It's an out, I know it. It's a way of breaking the conversation, of letting me flee. I struggle with my doubts and fears about everything – even this. Hell, until twenty minutes ago, I feared he didn't want me. And I'm still afraid of things – what if it doesn't work out, what if I lose him, what if he loses me, what if it's terrible, what if it's wonderful, what if we wend up like me and Tino – but ultimately I'm still impulsive enough to shove my fears to the side – at least for a minute, an hour, a night – and finally take what I've wanted.

"Anyone," I confirm.

He takes my head in his hands and kisses me, really this time, and I push back against him, letting myself sink into it. All my senses seem suddenly enhanced – but useless, because all I can feel and see and smell is him, and all I can hear is us breathing and my heartbeat and the music. A new song begins, ridiculously appropriate, and we're still swaying to the music, but it's all background sensation, and all that's in the foreground is us.

I don't think I've ever felt quite like this.

We break apart, not surprisingly struggling for air, and try to catch our respective breathes. Our foreheads are pressed against each other and he laughs – just one short, soft chuckle. "Wow."

"Sounds about right," I concur.

We kiss again, not quite so deep and plundering, but a simple catch of his lips on mine. My arms are wrapped around his neck and I have to stand on my toes to fully get the contact I'm seeking. His hands slide down to the small of my back to hold me up as we exchange short, soft kisses. I've never gotten anything like this out of kissing anyone before – it was always nice, but it was just kissing. This isn't. This is something else. This is one of the most incredible sensations of my life, and as much as I never want to stop it, I also want to stop it so we can go on to exploring…other things. But the way things are going, I trust that to come…naturally, I guess, and just let myself enjoy the moment.

Soon enough, we start swaying to the music in the direction of the bedrooms, though when he starts steering us toward my door, I utter, "No."

He pauses, a concerned look on his face, before I clarify. "Schroeder's asleep on my bed. Yours."

In some ways, it seems strange and somehow kind of wrong to be rushing into this, but then, this is what's been coming for an age, right? This is where this has all been leading for so long – it's not rushing into anything, really. We've had twenty-eight months to get here. It's not rushed at all.

He nods and starts pulling me toward his room instead, reluctant to break any contact with me that he doesn't have to. We finally collapse onto his bed, curled around each other. He smells like coffee and paint and the flat and everything I've come to know over the last two years.

We pause in our moment, and for the first time since this started he appears uncertain. "Are we going to do this?"

I nod, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "Yes, please."

He smiles at me. "I love you, you know."

Like me, he's never really been one for fancy words and poetry when something simple would do. But like me, he's really not much on hiding his feelings, either.

My fingers catch in one of the buttonholes, and I look up into his eyes. He's just smiling down at me. I reach up from my fumbling efforts to get his top off and run a hand through his hair. "I love you too."

We've said these words before, of course. I knew he loved me. But to hear it like this, in these circumstances, in these surroundings, is so surreal. Part of me wonders if this is too soon – we're just starting out on this new phase to our relationship together, so how can we know that it's love?

Because this isn't something new. It's something old. Something we've had for two years. Just with something new added.

I've finally gotten his shirt off and I lean back and look in appreciation. He's hardly flawless – a bit thin from forgetting to eat rather than toned from any serious attempts to work out – and with a few scars from a misspent, adventurous youth, but he's Phil and so I don't care. He reaches down and tugs at my top, and I allow him to pull it over my head.

I realise exactly what I've just been doing – checking him out – and that he may decide to do the same to me. Which is something I'm not so comfortable with. I'm hardly the most private of people but I don't exactly walk around the flat in my underwear, either, so I'm pretty sure he's never seen me naked. And now here I am, lying here in just my bra and trousers and very painfully aware of it. He might see me as beautiful in his mind's eye but in reality I'm a skinny blonde girl in a white cotton bra that doesn't have much to hold in. Part of me thinks that if I'd known this was going to happen tonight I'd have at least worn my sexy underwear, but then I remember that I don't own any anyway, so it's really a moot point. I close my eyes so I don't have to look at the expression on his face.

No.

I'm not going to let my stupid insecurities ruin this. I'm not. I promise myself.

I open my eyes again to look at him, to try and make him realise that this is who I am and this is what I look like and if he really loves me – and I'm quite certain he does by this point – then he won't care about my lack of breasts or my not very sexy underwear or the fact that I'm probably more muscled than he is and that can't be very attractive.

But he's not looking in my eyes. He's looking at the rest of me. His fingers run softly up my sides, and I try very hard not to laugh as he leans down and presses his lips to my skin, trying to familiarise himself with it. I feel so far away from this whole situation, like I'm not quite sure what's going on but at the same time I know exactly what's going to happen next. I push my hands into his shoulders, trying to encourage him, trying to hold him still, trying to smother him? I don't know. I just know that it's the thing to do – like I'm on some weird autopilot and this is just what I'm meant to do.

I was sleeping with Tino for nearly a year, but I never had these thoughts running through my head. That was a learning experience – Tino and I broke boundaries together. Phil and I have already broken most boundaries, and so about the action, at least, there's no self-consciousness about it. When I have a thought run through my head – like the thought that I should raise my back off the bed so he can get my bra off, or the thought that belts are very annoying when you're trying to get them unbuckled without looking – then I don't think about it or worry about it, I just surrender to it. I'm completely worried about how I look and what's actually happening between us, the change in our relationship, but I don't worry about what feels good and what the right thing to do in the moment is, because that I know by now. Parents build it all up, you know, with the birds and the bees stuff – but what they really need to tell their kids is 'When the time comes, we've actually got pretty damn good instincts about this kind of stuff. Run with what feels right.'

He returns to kissing me as we continue to shed clothes, and I try not to think about what he must think of the depressingly pedestrian underwear or the fact that I've got smaller breasts than Kimi or the issue of what this means to us in the long term – and I hope he's doing the same. Of course, I doubt men do the same about themselves – I can't see a guy worrying that he's worn the wrong boxers or something.

"You're getting lost in your head," he whispers in my ear, drawing me back to him. "Am I doing something wrong?"

I shake my head, flushing red with embarrassment. "No, god no. You're perfect. This is…incredible. I'm just stupid."

He laughs at me softly. "To placate my insecurities, I'll take your word for it."

God, now I'm even making him insecure. I pull him in to me and kiss him, hard. "This is defying description for me, okay? Believe me. I'm here."

He smiled. "I noticed. You're beautiful."

"I'm not," I mutter.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Would I lie to you?"

I look at him thoughtfully, playing with the waistband of his shorts. "I dunno. Depends if you thought I was gonna get mad at you over it."

"Well, I doubt this one is going to get me in trouble," he says, stretching slightly with the rest of his body but keeping his eyes on mine. "So how about you just trust me when I say that you're beautiful."

"Oh…alright," I agree, with mock reluctance while his words make me buzz on the inside.

"I wanted to do this so many times…" he says to me, confessing one of what I hope is only a few deep secrets I didn't already know. "I wanted to tell you how much I love you…I kind of always thought I'd find a better way than this – "

I cut him off with a kiss. "There is no better way than this," I tell him. "This is perfect."

He nods, brushing my hair back out of my eyes, before sliding his hands down the length of my body to my waist, and dragging my underwear down my legs as he goes. I force myself not to blush, not to cover myself up, but just allowing myself to believe that what he sees in me is really there. I feel confident and free as he stares at me in awe and unabashed lust…and love. He trails his mouth down my body and all but worships me in whispers and murmurs.

"Phil…"

I mean to say it clearly, to get his attention and draw him back up to me, but I'm out of breath and so aroused that it comes out as a wanton moan because I can't produce anything else.

It certainly gets his attention, regardless.

He slides back up to be face to face with me and I can't help but kiss him – again – because I feel like I have to do it as often as possible.

"Now."

He gets a slightly overwhelmed look on his face as he stares into my eyes, and I can barely believe it myself, to be honest. But he nods and fumbles with his bedside table. A brief flash enters my mind of an old ad for the Scouts – Always be Prepared – before I'm once again blanked of all memory and completely in the moment.

He nuzzles my neck and whispers "I love you," again, softer than before but no less meaningful.

"And I love you."

Though I recognise my voice saying it, I feel like I've drifted away from the whole situation: I'm watching some kind of strange dream play out before me as it happens. Phil doesn't really love me, surely. We aren't really, right now, lying in his bed, about to…

God, I can't even think it.

And then he kisses me, and then…

There are two different lives that we've led. One, which was leading up to everything we've been for each other, and another, from the moment we met to now. In the first life we learnt everything we needed to know to be here in this moment.

He learnt that he can be a good person and creative, and that he needs someone he cares about with him to nurture that gift. He learnt how to make people laugh when they're blue, open up when they don't want to and how to leave them alone when they need it, but be there for them when they need that instead.

I learnt how to think of others before myself, I learnt that I need someone that accepts me for who I am rather than what they think I can be, I learnt that I need to be with someone who believes in my crazy ideas and will help me through the carnage afterwards.

We learnt, I think, that we need each other.

Which is why this feels so right, which is why I could happily be part of this forever. Which is why I can't think of anything else but the current moment and I don't think I want to live more than one second at a time, in this circumstance.

The moment ends, eventually, but it could have lasted forever, I think. But this kind of thing shouldn't last forever. Because then it wouldn't be so special.

I feel myself come back to reality, as if out of an extremely pleasurable haze. We're wrapped around each other, and though what we just did was exhausting, I have no desire to sleep. And judging from the look on his face, Phil doesn't either, as he is staring at me so intensely that I can feel it physically.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says. "Just…lying here. Watching you. In disblief."

I bury my head in his neck. "Quite enough of the flattery, thanks."

He shrugs and wraps his arms around me. "Alright. If you so insist. I could go all night, though."

"It's morning," I point out, gesturing over his shoulder to the alarm clock on his bedside table. "Well, after midnight, anyway."

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs.

I pull him a little closer.

When I wake up next it is well after three, a few more hours before I have to get up for the drive to Bahia Bay, but suddenly I'm wide awake. I realise quickly it's because Phil isn't there anymore – I'm lying in his room, in his bed, quite alone. I sit up and look around, but its dark and a pretty useless gesture. I lean across and hit the switch on the lamp, bathing the room in a dull glow. I don't come in here very often, and last night I was obviously concentrating more on other things, so I take the opportunity to look around at the place. It's surprisingly clean, but cluttered with paintings and art paraphernalia to the rafters. I can't see any of the paintings terribly well in this light, but I can see well enough to know he's not in the room.

I'm about to get up and go look for him – or, if he's run off and abandoned me, probably just go back to my room – when the door opens and he's before me, still quite gloriously naked and with a glass of water in each hand. "Sorry I woke you. Just thirsty. And I had to take my contacts out before they, y'know, melted into my eyes."

I nod. He hasn't left.

Yet.

"No problem," I say, watching him as he climbs back into bed, pulling the covers up over us again. I'm still staring at him, moments later, when he turns to face me after putting the water on the table.

"What?" he asks, probably somewhat concerned by my behaviour.

"Nothing," I tell him. "Just…watching."

He raises an eyebrow. "My stunning good looks finally got the better of you, huh?"

"Oh, they did that at Halloween," I tell him. "When you looked completely ridiculous and I realised that I was still attracted to you, no matter how much I didn't want to be."

He lies back on the bed. "You didn't want to be?"

"Tish and I had a big fight where she accused me of dumping Tino to go after you. Which totally isn't what happened, so when I finally came to terms that I was attracted to you – that I am in love with you – I wasn't exactly…able to cope terribly well with the idea."

"Sorry to have caused you stress," he says, stretching a little before I tuck in against his side. I feel compelled to play with his chest hair but he doesn't really have any to speak of, so I settle for just dragging my fingers up and down. He shivers a little. "I just…I dunno. Halloween was a bit of a weird time for me."

Memories flash through my mind. Yeah, I can see that. "Which bit are you referring to? Breaking up with Kimi, or lying to me about it?"

He groans. "Oh, we're going to do this, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," I tell him.

He sighs and reaches up to run a hand through his hair – a nervous habit he has, I've decided. I'm used to it enough now that it doesn't drive me nuts anymore. "Well, I did it for a lot of reasons, to be honest with you. A lot of it really was what I told you at the time, you know – I didn't want you to think I was hurt over it."

"And what's the but on the end of that sentence?" I ask.

"But…" He sighs again. "Look, you've got to understand that this was my attempt, in some misguided manner, to make sure no-one got hurt, to make sure that things didn't get awkward between us, to make sure…I dunno. To make sure everything stayed good and stuff between us."

"Alright. Fill me in."

"From the night you broke up with Tino – the night of the Chum Bukkit show – I knew that, on some level, I wanted you. I loved you already – but that night, when things changed for you, and I saw you…differently. To be honest, I saw you as a drunk, sad mess and I knew that if I wanted you then, then I would want you in any way, shape or form. So, I'd been trying to deal with that, and trying to make you happy, make sure you were okay, for months. And when Kimi and I finally ended things on Halloween, there were a lot of reasons for it, but mostly, it was because I wanted to see if, maybe, we might move forward in _our _relationship. And so I broke up with her, and I came to see you, and when it came to the point where I was going to tell you – and I _was_ going to – I just sat there for a moment, thinking about what was about to happen. I was racked with doubts already – I freaked out about being an artist, remember? So, I was sitting there, practically a mess, and knew that if I told you, you'd hug me, and comfort me, and I didn't need it – but I would take it anyway, because it would get me close to you. And I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to take advantage of you being a good friend. I don't know what I was thinking, but there you go."

"There I go," I echo.

He looks at me, cautiously. "Are we okay, here?"

I nod and press my lips softly to his chest. "Yes. Sorry. I just…I don't want things to go wrong, here. I want things to go right. For us, between us."

"Well…me too, Lor," he reminds me. "Don't think about it. We'll be fine."

"Will we?" I ask, desperately wanting to know.

"Yes," he tells me, kissing my shoulder. "We will. Relax. Just…be with me."

His hand drifts softly up and down my back, and he's kissing my shoulder. I sigh. Just being with him sounds like a pretty good idea for the moment. "Oh…alright."

We make love again, but this time it's much slower, less frenzied. It's more honest, because I'm no longer even thinking about hiding but just…being with him. And for this moment, it's pretty close to perfect. As we wind down in the afterglow, we exchange slow, lazy kisses because I can't summon the energy to do anything else – my whole body seems to have turned to mush. We eventually drift off a bit after four.

Which is all well and good until I hear the reminder on my phone go off from the somewhere on the floor, in my pant pocket, which means it's six-thirty. I wonder why the hell I've set it this early on a day I don't have school, when I realise – Christmas. Home. Family, friends. Carver, Tish and Tino.

Tino.

Break-ups and awkwardness. Still-can't-quite-sit-in-the-same-room kind of thing.

Great.

"That's your phone," a gravely voice comes from beside me. He's still here.

"Yes, it is," I tell him. I don't want to get up. I need to get up. If only to turn off my phone. And to get some distance from this situation. I need to think. I need time to think.

Because it's now morning. The sun is creeping in through his window – how the _hell_ does he sleep in this room with this kind of eastern exposure – and everything that seemed so romantic last night seems so…real this morning.

So he told me he loved me, and I told him I love him, and we shared a night of absolutely mind-blowing sex. So, now what? Where do we go from here? I've been down this road before and it ended badly. And I can't have that happen with Phil.

I roll away from him and grab my trousers without getting out of bed, reach into the pocket and blindly turn off the alarm. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he tells me, rolling back toward me, flinging an arm across my torso. "Sleep in with me."

"I have to go to Bahia Bay," I remind him.

He shrugs. "Go tomorrow. Come to Christmas with me today."

"I can't just blow everyone off," I remind him, trying to gently extricate myself. "I need to have a shower."

"You won't be blowing everyone off," he insists, not seeming in any hurry to let go so I can go bathe. "You'll go tomorrow and see everyone. They'll all still be there. And I'm sure they'll understand. I'll even phone them for you and explain."

"Explain what?" I ask as I finally pull away and get out of bed. "That we slept together so now I have to go spend Christmas with your relatives?"

I really could go to Christmas at his parents, see everyone from his family and circle of old friends. It wouldn't kill me, my friends would understand, my parents wouldn't mind. But I need some distance, suddenly. Because my old boyfriend came to mind and now I'm stressed about what that means in regard to me new boyfriend? Boyfriend? Is that the word? Is Phil my boyfriend now?

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, sitting up in bed and tucking his blanketed knees into his chest. "You're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out," I insist. I'm totally freaking out, but he doesn't need to know that. "Phil, I just can't come to Christmas, alright?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I thought you…you did want us to…take this step, right? To act on things?"

I nod. "I did." I thought I did. I think I do.

"Do you still?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes."

He bites his lip. "I really want you to come with me today."

"Why?" I ask, kneeling on the bed in front of him.

"Because…because I know you too well. You're going to go home and over-think everything. I heard you earlier, when we got up in the night. And just now. You're going to talk yourself out of this."

"I'm not," I tell him.

Damn. He really does know me too well.

"Really?" he asks, doubtful.

"I won't. I want this. I really do," I tell him. "But I've got to go home, alright?"

He looks at me, hopefully, sceptically, lovingly, worriedly.

"I'm coming back," I tell him. "I'm not running away."

He reaches out and grabs me, dragging me to him and kissing me hard. We share a moment – which turns rapidly into several moments – of passion which I willingly melt into.

When we break apart, he locks eyes with me. "You're coming back? This isn't just going to be one night – this is going to be something real?"

"I'm coming back," I tell him.

I get up off the bed and head to the bathroom, where I let hot water thunder down over my body.

I will not ruin this. I will not let what's happened in the past break what could happen now. I will not over-think it, I will not let my insecurities get the better of me.

Then why am I running for home?

8 - * - * - * - 8

"I think it's time we made our escape," Phil tells me. "We've danced to at least a half-dozen songs and I don't want to be tired when there are…other things to enjoy this evening."

"Hear, hear," I agree, desperate to get off this dance floor and to go somewhere a great deal more private, to be with my husband.

I look up at him, wonder in my eyes. I sometimes wonder how he lives with me and some of the dumb stuff I do and say – how we ever got off the ground in the first place.

"Thank you for marrying me," I tell him.

"Well, who else would put up with me?" he responds, albeit seeming pretty surprised. "I thought that was my line."

"Well, we'll share it," I tell him. "Now, let me throw this silly bouquet thing at Lil and Kimi and we can get out of here. "

"Sounds like a plan."

8 - 8

_Alright, so that was it, the pivotal Chapter 14. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you stick around for the grand finale, Chapter 15, coming soon. In the meantime, I would be hugely appreciative if you left a review._


	15. That Would Lead to My Wreck and Ruin

**Tertiary  
**Acepilot

AN – This is it, the finale, the last chapter of _Tertiary_. Of course, now I've set myself up for a whole lot more fics to follow, because I simply love these characters too much to let them go...but this, the fic that I have been working on for nearly half-a-decade, this I can finally refer to as finished. It's a load off my mind. There'll be a longer note at the end, but for now, just enjoy Chapter 15.

Sorry about the delay on this chapter, by the way. It was meant to be finished much sooner, but I had some family crises in the interim which caused unfortunate delays. My sincere apologies to all those who I left hanging...

Initially, this was only the scenes set during Christmas, but on reflection I went back and added the scenes in Phil and Lor's hotel room – I think they flesh the chapter out and just make it better all-round.

For anyone wondering about what's been going on with Phil during the same time frame, you might find the one-shot _You Were the Only One in the Room_ enlightening. It's Phil's Christmas. This is Lor's.

Disclaimer – Nope. Four years gone by and it's still not mine. At the rate things are going, though, I might be able to afford to buy KlaskyCsupo, though. We'll see how it goes.

8 – - - - 8

Chapter 15  
**...That Would Lead to My Wreck and Ruin**

8 – 8 – 8 - 8

I smile as Lil and Chuckie, proud new owners of a bouquet and garter respectively, are dragged up to the seats of honour and showered with confetti and other debris. Reggie looks mildly put out that she failed to catch the flowers – more because she thinks her sporting ability should give her an advantage than because she actually wanted to be married next. Dil is whispering things rapidly in Chuckie's ear that are causing him to turn the colour of a tomato while Kimi pats Lil on the back in congratulation before striding over to me.

"Disappointed?" I ask as she joins me in leaning on the bar.

"Nah," she says. "I've got enough flowers."

"Don't want to be the next one married?"

"Not particularly," she says. "I'm really happy for you and Tish and everything, and I definitely want to be married some day, but I guess I just haven't found...the right thing yet. The right guy, the right time, the right...whatever."

I nod. "You never think...what if?"

She looks at me strangely. "What if what?"

"What if...you know. Phil."

She laughs, loudly. "Oh, god, me and Phil. I haven't seriously thought about that in ages. I mean, I've thought about it a fair bit today, obviously, but I got over Phil long ago. I was probably over Phil before we broke up."

We've never really talked about this, it occurs to me. The closest we came was the discussion we had before the ball – she all but said that she knew Phil loved me, and that was as far as it ever went. Some part of me has often wondered why she never fought harder for him.

But another part of me has never really wanted to know. And, maybe, I shouldn't. Her and Phil is something that I'm not a part of, that I was never a part of. Tish once said to me that the reason he'd not told me that he and Kimi had broken up was that it was his life, not mine or ours, and it's true that their relationship is still something that I've never wanted to interfere with. She left Phil for her reasons – I'm sure I was one of them, and that's not ego talking as much as just plain sense – and they're really none of my business. It would be like when Tish asked me why I left Tino, why I didn't try harder to make it work between us – for Phil and Kimi, it wasn't right. It was right for a time, for the time and place that they were in, but it wasn't right forever. The same as it was for me and Tino, or Phil and Susie, or Mrs. T and Dixon. But eventually you find someone with whom it seems right, forever. Like Tish and Tino, like Susie and Angelica, like me and Phil.

"Well, I hope you find the right...thing, out there somewhere."

She nods. "I'm sure I will."

I wrap her up in a hug. "Thanks. For everything."

She returns my affection with an even more crushing embrace that I can feel clear through my body. "You're welcome. Now don't you have a honeymoon to be getting off to?"

"Indeed we do," Phil's voice comes from over my shoulder. "So if you'll just see your way clear to releasing my wife from that choke hold you've got her in, we'll be on our way."

Kimi laughs before letting me go, stepping around me and flinging her arms around Phil, her heels meaning for once she doesn't have to stand on tip-toes to reach up and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Go and have a wonderful life, Phil."

He nods and smiles, hugging her in turn. We can't just do handshakes – we're all too close for that. "You too, Kimi."

"I will," she says, keeping one arm around Phil's shoulders and grasping my upper arm with the other. "Now get out of here, you two. Before they get you dancing again."

I turn and look out over the reception, filled with friends and family, who have all been such a huge part of my life in so many different ways – who have all left some kind of fingerprint on my life, most of them having all left some kind of honking great handprint on my relationship with the man standing next to me. My eyes are drawn to Tish, Tino and Carver, standing over by the head table, hovering at the edge of where Lil is being serenaded by one of my brothers and Chuckie is being propositioned by Reggie. The three of them took me through so much, helped me through what seemed like every crisis of my young life. And a few of my older life as well.

8 - * - * - 8

So, it's come to this.

"You look terrible," a familiar voice opines from the open doorway.

"Merry Christmas to you too," I tell him, not getting up from where I'm slumped on Kyle's bed. My room is occupied, still, so I've appropriated one of my brothers' for the moment. I wanted to come home, slump and mope, so that's what I've done. My childhood bed was unavailable, so I've taken the next best thing.

Carver finally steps through the doorway and looks around for anything resembling a clean surface. "I was on my way over to Tino's, thought I'd see if you guys were done. I seem to remember you guys always finish up the Christmas thing pretty early."

"Penny and Kirk announced they're getting married," I tell him. "There was much rejoicing. Particularly from my Mom. I think she's a little traditional to tolerate their whole living in sin thing for too long."

"Wow, so you'll finally be like my sister or something. Cool."

I shake my head. "I don't think it works like that, Carv."

"Is Kirk your brother?"

I nod. "Yes, obviously."

"And now, he's going to be my brother-in-law, which means that he's my brother too, which means you'll be my sister."

I think about this for a moment before just groaning and sitting up. "I'm still sure it doesn't work like that. But okay. Whatever will make you stop making me think, alright?"

He looks at me concernedly. "Are you alright?"

I groan in frustration. "No, I'm not alright. I've got no idea what I am, but it's not alright."

"You want to talk about it?" he asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

I sling my legs over the side of the bed and sit next to him. "No. Yes. I don't know."

"Well when you've got it sorted out, you let me know, alright?" He shakes his head. "Seriously, Lor, I'm not quite sure what's going on with you lately, but I just want to know you're alright."

"What do you mean you're not quite sure what's going on with me?"

"Every time I've talked to you for the last few months, it's like your head's off somewhere else. I mean, I know I'm not the most observant person on the face of the earth, but even I can tell when something's going on in the life of one of my best friends. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were –"

He pauses. I pause. He's got it, I know it.

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

I grab the pillow off the bed and smack him across the face with it. "No! You idiot! Why would you think that?"

He holds up his hands in pathetic defence as I rain feather-filled blows down across him head and torso. "I dunno. I thought, maybe...it might explain things."

I shake my head. "God help whatever woman ends up lumped with you for the rest of her life."

"I don't see myself ending up with anyone for the rest of my life. The whole marriage thing seems like a bit of a dud deal to me, but hey – whatever floats people's boats."

I go to correct him – but who am I, really, to be selling the benefits of marriage when I can't even make a basic relationship work. Thompson was a high-school mess, Tino and I broke apart in a catastrophic fight and now I've run away from the most serious possibility for a relationship I've had yet.

"Carver, can I ask you a personal question?"

He shrugs. "I kind of figured we were well into that sort of territory by now, anyway."

I nod. "Yeah, I guess we are. Do you really think it's impossible to make something work...forever? For the rest of your life? Or do you think it's all just temporary? That long-term relationships are just...a pipe dream."

He seems to think seriously about it for a moment – resulting in an expression that I've seen on his face very rarely. "I don't know. I think that I can't see myself ever settling down with someone like that. I don't know how it would work. But then, that's me. I guess I see marriage and that kind of thing and I think of my parents, of Tino's parents. It puts me off a bit, I guess. I sometimes wonder how Penny and I grew up in the same house, with the same parents, with the same fights. Yet she wants to go and marry Kirk. Maybe she's just found something I haven't, I guess. The same thing that your parents have found, or Tish's, or Bluke and Christie – "

"Bluke and Christie?"

"Yeah, they're getting married next year. Didn't you get the alumni newsletter?"

"Apparently not," I admit. "Anyway, so you don't think it's impossible?"

"Eh...I think it's not for some people. I think it just a case of finding the right person at the right time. It's entirely possible I met the right woman while drunk out of my mind at school or something and made a fool of myself in front of her – "

"Who, you? Never happen, my friend."

" – and if the peanut gallery is finished with the commentary, may I continue – and I'll never meet her again or she'll always think of me as the guy who serenaded the statue of Hippocrates with _Doctor Doctor_ with my underwear on my head – "

"Sorry, what?"

"Long story," he tells me. "Anyway, so I'll never get to be with her, because it wasn't the right time. But sooner or later, you'll meet the right person at the right time in the right circumstances, and bang, that'll be it."

"Hmm."

"You want to go over to Tino's now? It's still pretty early – just gone 11am. We could probably just catch breakfast."

"Do you ever think about anything other than food?" I ask, rising from the bed and letting my joints ease with a satisfying cracking noise.

"I could swear I thought about the judicial system for a moment the other day, while my hot-pockets were in the microwave."

"You're a special friend," I tell him.

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Are we going to do the carry-across-the-threshold thing?" I ask Phil as we come to our hotel room door.

He looks me up and down then gazes at the bellboy behind me, who is carrying our bags. "If you think you can lift me," he says, pushing open the door and letting the bellboy in. "Come here," he says, holding out his arms. "I can't believe you're seriously asking for this."

"It's romantic," I tell him.

"Since when are we romantic?"

"We dance, Phil."

"Yeah, but that wasn't romantic when we started," he points out. "When we started, that was like…a sport."

"Keep telling yourself that, babe," I soothe, running a hand up and down his arm. "Besides, every now and then, I kind of like this sort of thing. You know, traditional moments of you showing your manly strength."

"I have to get you to move the TV," he points out, but takes a deep breath nonetheless. "Alright, here goes."

A second later, before I even really know what's happening, his arm sweeps my legs out from under me and he catches me – just barely, but it gives me a reassuring surge of confidence that he didn't just drop me outright – before marching into our room, thankfully not smacking my head on the doorjamb.

To be honest, it's not all that comfortable and I think I'm not imagining that his arms are starting to tremble a little from holding me up, but there's a sense of…something, something I can't quite name, in the idea of being carried into my marital bed by my husband. It's something special, something that transcends the mockery we heap on traditional romance. It's a beautiful moment, and something I'm glad we shared.

The bellboy coughs lightly. "Will there be anything else?"

Phil sighs at the breaking of the moment. "Lor, there's a five in my pocket."

"You could put me down," I point out, reaching down and pulling a crumpled note out of his pocket, which I hand to the hotel employee, who makes a prompt escape.

"Not there, I couldn't," he says, tensing his muscles for one last charge, walking us over to the bed and laying me down on it. "Tonight we're doing things right. Or traditionally, anyway."

"Sounds like a plan," I agree, grinning up at him as he places a hand on either side of me, caging me in on the bed. "But does that mean we don't get to try this thing I read about in – "

He cuts me off. Pleasurably.

8 - * - * - * - 8

It's been almost a month since I've been in Tino's house, and clearly something has happened while I've been gone – for one thing, the colours are all different.

"What happened here?" I ask, shrugging off my jacket in the doorway. "Did Tino's mom re-decorate again?"

"Tish and Tino are doing it. Some sort of present to her," Carver explains.

I raise an eyebrow. "Huh. Really."

"Yeah, well, since Tish came back home to finish her doctorate locally, she's been reconnecting with everyone. Among them, Mrs. Tonitini. She roped Tino in to work on this whole decorating project with her. It's strange, but it keeps them amused."

"Good to hear it," I tell him, looking around. So, Tish found a nice, innocent way to spend time with him. I'm glad. I was kind of worried that it would end up being something that never happened for them, but now I think they might be in with a fighting chance.

One of the objects of my thought appears at the top of the stairs, wearing an old pair of overalls and with a smudge of paint on her cheek. I'm reminded strongly of Phil – I guess the smell of fresh paint does that to me now – and the events of last night flash strongly through my mind. No, I'm not going through that. Not again. I'm here to not think about this.

Tish mercifully distracts me. "Hey guys, thought we heard you. We're painting the upstairs bedrooms. You want to come up and see?"

Carver and I exchange a quick glance-and-shrug, before mounting the stairs and trailing Tish into what was once Tino's bedroom – and I have to resist the urge to cover my eyes, as the entire room is now an alarming shade of cyan. "Wow."

"We wanted to try something different," Mrs. Tonitini explains from near the window, where she is doing some fine work with a small brush. "Though maybe this was a bit much."

"I voted grey," Tino tells us, in a precarious position up a ladder, trying to finish rollering the roof. "But I was accused of being safe and boring. Me! Safe and boring! Can you imagine such a thing?"

And I laugh.

Quite loudly, actually. Probably louder than I should, drowning out everyone else's chuckles at this statement, and immediately becoming the most out of place person in the room. But I can't help it – it's funny. It's a joke about us, it's a joke about our fight, it's a joke at our expense. It's the first time he's ever joked about our fight – it's the first time he's ever mentioned what we fought about – and it's a relief, a weight off my shoulders.

I realise quite quickly, however, that I'm probably being perceived as overreacting, and curtail my chortles. Tino doesn't seem to mind, however, sliding down the ladder and wrapping me up in a hug. "Merry Christmas, Lor."

"Happy holidays, Tino," I return, holding him tight.

And then everything that's happened between us – and, more pressingly, everything that happened between me and Phil – comes crashing back into my mind with the force of a freight train, and I pull back a little, turning to hug Tish, who is staring up at the ceiling that the object of her affection has just finished painting.

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Tonitini says, laying down her paintbrush, "merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it. And as long as we've got everyone here, we might as well pack in the painting for the day. What do you say, kids?"

There are cheers all round at this idea and we all leave the brightly coloured room. Tish retreats to Mrs. Tonitini's room to change, while Tino heads into the bathroom (his room being impractical to keep stuff in at the moment, of course), while Mrs. Tonitini leads me and Carver to the lounge room.

It's not quite such a riot of colour in here – it's been painted a more sombre maroon that goes quite nicely with some new cream furniture. "Why are you doing up the house, Mrs. T?" Carver asks, looking around. "Tino told me you three were working on it, he just didn't mention why."

"You're not selling the place, are you?" I ask, looking around for any evidence of packing.

She laughs. "No, no. I don't think I could ever give the place up, to be honest with you. No, I just...needed a change. You know, you get to my age, with no-one to come home to or anything, sometimes you just need something different in your life. And besides, it's meant having Tino and Tish around a lot more, and that's something I've really missed these last few years. You get used to something – like having you kids around – and you don't notice it so much until it's gone."

I feel a strange pulse of guilt rush through me, though it's ridiculous – she's never expected me to drop by and visit or anything, especially not since Tino and I broke up – but still, I feel sorry for her being alone, and with the four of us (who, let's face it, used to occupy a great deal of her time) scattered around the country for so long, I can see how she'd get lonely.

I wonder how I'd survive as a divorcee. Would I be strong like her, finding ways to occupy my time and go on to date other people, or would I become one of those bitter old spinsters, cursing Phil's name until the day I died and never moving on?

Well, it's progress. At least I'm thinking of him as my potential husband.

I told myself this morning that I didn't know why I wouldn't go with Phil – or why, more specifically, I wouldn't _stay_ with Phil. The idea that I couldn't have begged off Christmas this morning was ridiculous – I could have rang, said, "Hey, Phil and I have gotten together and we're going to Christmas at his place, I'll be home tomorrow," and no-one would have batted an eyelid. Christmas at my house was over by 11, took a whole of two hours out of my life, and Tino, Tish and Carver would have certainly understood a slight shuffle of my priorities. Tish most of all.

The reason I couldn't stay with Phil was because I was scared, scared of us becoming what Tino and I are now – awkward conversation, awkward hugs, awkward existence. And I can't have that with him. I can't.

I need to know that it wouldn't be the end of our friendship if we broke up.

"Hey, Lor," Carver says, waving a hand in front of my face. "You still with us over there?"

I shake myself out of it. "Yeah. Sorry. Drifted off for a second."

Mrs. Tonitini nods. It's incredible – all these years of knowing her, even now I'm practically an adult, and I still think of her as _Mrs. Tonitini_. Don't know why it is, but I just can't bring myself to even think of her by her first name, much less address her by it.

"A lot on your mind today, Lor?" she asks, sitting down in her traditional armchair while Carver and I share the couch.

"I guess so," I admit.

"She was asking about marriage and destiny and stuff before," Carver tells her.

I turn and sock him on the arm. "Some confidante you are!"

"Hey, I didn't know it was some big secret."

I roll my eyes at him. "No wonder conversation is a lost art."

"Is this about Phil?" Mrs. Tonitini cuts in.

I spin around so fast I catch my own ponytail in my mouth. Over the last month or so I have actually taken to wearing it braided for special occasions – a raft of college Christmas parties, basically – but it's Phil who braids it for me and I didn't think it would be terribly appropriate to ask this morning.

"How did you know that?"

"I didn't realise it was some great secret," Mrs. Tonitini explains, "after Thanksgiving, I thought you two were together. Or about to get together, anyway."

"Were we that obvious?" I ask.

"_Yes,_" Caver offers emphatically.

Mrs. T rolls her eyes at him, but turns back to me with a more sombre look on her face. "Well, a bit, but we had a big chat about it after you and Tish left the room. He and I talked."

This is all coming a bit fast for me. "You spoke to Phil. About me?"

"About a lot of things," she admits, pushing a bowl full of sugar-free candy on the table toward me and Carver. "Try the mint patties. You can't even tell they've got winterberries in them instead of glucose."

"Why does everyone try to distract me?" I ask, despairingly. "Did I really used to have that short an attention span?" I turn to cut Carver off before he can say anything. "Don't answer that. You were at least as bad as I was."

He shrugs and nods, accepting this statement. Good thing too, the smarmy bugger.

"We talked about you, yes," Mrs. T cuts back in. "He was feeling a bit distraught over hurting your feelings and betraying your friendship at Thanksgiving. He needed some help coming to terms with things."

"I'm over that," I assure her.

"Then why aren't you two together?" she asks, picking up some sort of 'sweet' and biting down on it. I'm satisfied to note that even she looks somewhat put off by it and decided to play it safe and not sample any myself. "I mean, you're in love with him, aren't you?"

I roll my eyes. "I like the way everyone has this worked out. Yes, I'm in love with him. Yes, we're together. Sort of."

"Sort of?" Mrs. T asks, raising an eyebrow. "How does that work?"

I sigh. "We sort of got together. Last night. We haven't really had a chance to talk much about it. I don't exactly know what's going on with us. I just know it's kind of...complicated."

"Why is it complicated?" she asks, settling into the chair a bit more comfortably. She looks like she's getting set for a long chat, and I'm not sure if this bodes well for me or not.

"Because it is, alright? We're both just out of long-term relationships –"

"You and Tino broke up in June. Or April, depending on how you read the situation. And he and his girlfriend have been broken up for two months. If you two took some sort of step together into a new relationship, I doubt it was too soon."

"As long as you're ready, there is no too soon."

Both Mrs. Tonitini and I turn to face Carver. "Where the hell did you get something like that?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I dunno. Came up with it myself."

"That's almost deep, Carv," I commend him. "Tell me you don't use it as a pick up line on girls who've just been dumped."

"Only once," he assures me.

I just roll my eyes.

"Anyway," Mrs. T begins, trying clearly to bring this conversation back on what she has determined to be the right track, "you and he are in love with each other, and yes, I guess it hasn't been _that_ long since he broke up with Kimi, but...well, if you've...done whatever it is you've done, and trust me, I'm not so curious as to ask for any details here – then I've got to ask – what complications could you be looking at now?"

I grip the arm of the couch quite hard. "I'm just worried, alright? I'm nervous, and worried, and scared, and this is a big deal for me, and –"

"Who's up for – " Tino walks into the room, a broad smile on his face and his hands spread wide in front of him, now wearing his nice Christmas clothes instead of his relaxed, painting ones. He stops short when he sees me attempting to tear the couch apart, the knowing look on his mother's face and the concerned gaze on Carver's. "- presents?" he peters out.

Tish appears at his shoulder in the doorway, and surveys the scene herself, before looking at me worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I assure her, rising from the seat. "Presents sound good," I agree. "Can someone help me get mine? I left them in the car?"

Carver gets up to help, but Tish pushes him back down. "Don't worry, Carv. I'll give her a hand."

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth – huh – Carver sits back down and relaxes, before Tino grabs him by the shoulder of his shirt. "Nice try, Carver. I need help in the kitchen."

"The world's gone strange," he mutters, before rising reluctantly. "Alright, alright. I'm coming. Just tell me you don't want me to garnish anything."

"Oh," Tino groans as the cross over toward the kitchen, "and here I thought you'd do such a great job twirling orange rind."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Wow," I gasp, slumping back onto the bed. "Wow."

"So it's true," Phil groans, rolling to the side before falling down so as not to crush me. "Susie's been telling me for years that it's better after marriage but I figured she was just getting old and losing her memory."

I laugh, reaching up with a forearm and wiping the sweat off my forehead. "Well, we've certainly set ourselves a high standard to go on with. Up for the challenge?"

"Oh, I've got nothing better to do for the rest of my life," he tells me, tracing a fingertip over my face from forehead to chin. "I think I'll give it a go."

"Good," I tell him, reaching down and pulling the sheet up over our bodies, snuggling into him a little as I do so. "So, what did you do today?"

He raises an eyebrow at me as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Well, I got up, had some breakfast, married you, and for dinner, I had – you wouldn't have believed this fish, seriously, it was just cooked like – "

I whack him on the chest. "You nuntz. I meant what did you do while you were getting ready?"

He shrugs, breathing slowly starting to return to normal. "Paced a lot. Got the pep talk of a lifetime from Susie. Got glowered at by your Dad a lot. You think he'll ever start to like me?"

"We can hope."

"Anyway, I guess I just waited. Thought a bit about us. A lot about us, to be honest with you. Where we're going, that kind of thing."

"Strange," I tell him. "I spent the afternoon telling people where we'd been."

"Nostalgia gets the better of you, huh?" he jokes, stretching his whole body along his spine – a habit he's got after sex. I don't know if he even realises he's doing it. "I guess I was just impatient. I wanted so badly for us to be out there, getting married." One of his hands, running lightly up and down my upper-arm, reaches across and plays with the necklace – other than my brand new wedding ring, the only thing I've got on. "I know it took me a while to propose, but once you said yes, I just wanted to be married to you so fast."

I watch as his fingers twirl the opal setting between his fingers. Most men would have proposed with a diamond ring, or even any sort of ring, but not Phil. It wasn't traditional, but as has been pointed out to us many times before – we're not exactly traditional kinds of people. "I guess it feels like we've been so close to being married for so long now, that it's nice to have just made it…real."

"Real," he agrees, nodding, watching the twirling opal with a slightly blank expression, suggesting he can't really see it. "Wife. You're my wife."

I can totally empathise as I had this moment myself only a few hours ago. "Yep. Lauren Patricia DeVille. Has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

He leans down and kisses me on the shoulder. "It'll take some getting used to."

"Doesn't everything?" I remind him. "Everything about being married will take some getting used to."

"Some of it I'm very much looking forward to, though," he tells me, running a hand through my hair, just starting to dry from the sweatiness we'd worked ourselves up into before. "Like getting used to sex as a married couple."

"That'll take a lot of getting used to," I agree, rolling on top of him. "We'd better practice."

8 - * - * - * - 8

Tish and I exchange a look and a chuckle before I lead her out to where I've parked my car. Well, my car for today. Phil's car, actually.

Making the drive in Phil's car was a big mistake, it turns out. Everywhere you might think to look there are CDs, and they all, rather annoyingly, remind me of him. _Tapestry_ was a big mistake – when you're trying to tell yourself that you don't want to go from being friends to lovers, songs like _You've Got A Friend_, _Natural Woman _and _Way Over Yonder _are the last things you need to be hearing. _Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow_ worked better on that front.

I ended up following it with a Phil Spector compilation, to remind me of the perils of getting involved with anyone long term at all. Especially someone named Phil.

I pop the boot and start shuffling the presents around a little, trying to work out how this is going to work best. "Alright, do you want small, funny-shaped and heavy or big, flat and light?"

"Small and funny shaped works for me," Tish tells me. "So, what happened with you and Phil?"

I roll my eyes. "Can't keep a secret in this town, can you?"

"We lifted the carpet upstairs," she tells me. "You can hear _everything_."

"Ah," I say, lacking anything better to say as I start loading her up with presents. "So you already know what happened with Phil."

"No, not all of it," she tells me, a frown on her face. "Tino wouldn't let me listen to all of it."

I grin. "He's such a gentleman like that. How's things on that front, anyway?"

"Things are good," she tells me, shuffling the presents a little to try and keep from dropping them all. "We're…well, we're decorating his mom's house, which has been fun. He's been spending his weekends home to help out, and so I've been seeing him a lot more."

"Sparks?" I ask, trying to judge whether the Adidas 50th Anniversary UNO set for Carver should go in with the presents I'm carrying or the ones Tish has.

"Too early for sparks," she says. "But there's flint."

"Glad to hear it," I tell her, tucking the card deck into my pocket.

"Hey, don't think that you're getting out of this question. What happened with you and Phil?"

"We slept together," I tell her, aware that evasion is getting me nowhere – and besides, what I said before does hold true – you can't keep a secret in this town to save your life. Mrs. T knows, Carver knows, and within minutes Tino will know. The idea that Tish wouldn't find out is laughable.

And besides, I kind of want her to know. After all, if there's anyone who might understand what I'm going through, it'd be her, right?

"I'm worried," I tell her, speaking into the surprisingly persistent silence – she hadn't said anything to my earlier revelation, which startled me a little.

"What about?" she asks.

"A lot of things," I tell her. "I guess…well, I guess I'm really just worried about how Phil and I will…end."

She raises an eyebrow over the pile of presents I've inflicted on her. "Aren't you getting kind of pre-emptive, there? Sounds like you've just barely begun before worrying about endings."

I groan as I use the weight of the presents I've chosen to carry myself to push the boot shut. "Well, relationships end, Tish. I mean, look at you and Peter, look at Tino's parents. Look at Carver's parents. Look at me and – "

"Tino," she finishes for me. "That's what this is really all about, isn't it? You and Tino, and how you ended. Badly."

"I don't even know that it's about how we ended," I correct her. "It's about what it's been like since. It's about losing…something, something that was there that was completely separate from our relationship. That closeness, that love – platonic, friendly love – that we used to share. I worry that we'll never get that back."

Tish shakes her head. "Okay, yeah – you and Tino had problems. Maybe still _have_ problems, sure – although you guys did manage to joke a bit about your break up before – if that's not progress I don't know what is."

"Point taken," I concede.

"While I've been on the receiving end of a few pep talks of this kind myself lately, I think the only piece of advice I can give you at this point – and this is in all seriousness – is that you need to talk to Tino about this."

We start walking back toward the house. "Really?"

"Essentially what you're stressed about here is what happened in the past between you and Tino, but you're letting it influence any possible future you could have with Phil. I think you need to avoid doing that, but to do so, you've really got to have this conversation with Tino, not me, not Carver, not Tino's mom, and not anyone else."

I catch up with something she said a moment or two ago. "Who's been giving you pep talks?"

She shrugs. "Kimi Finster."

I pause, and she doesn't, resulting in her getting ahead and having to turn back to face me. "Kimi Finster? Phil's ex-girlfriend?"

"It's not as weird as it sounds," she tells me. "But one thing led to another and we've become really good friends. She and Tino are quite close, and she's been helping me…work out ways to become closer to him. Having been there somewhat in the past herself."

I guess there's a certain truth to that. "Well…okay. I hope you and Tino get there."

"I hope you and Phil do too."

"Yeah."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"There's a note," Phil's voice comes from the other room of our far-too-opulent, one-time-only suite.

I raise an eyebrow. "I sent you in there to get ice-cream."

"It's attached to the ice-cream," he says, shutting the fridge door.

"What's it say?"

"It says, 'I told Susie you two would go for the unhealthy stuff first. Go check the fruit-bowl. Angelica.'"

I let out a snort of laughter before reluctantly getting out of bed and crossing to where our luggage is stacked against the wall. I pull out Phil's old Flames shirt – my preferred piece of sleepwear, something I stole not long after we got together – and pull it on, tugging my ponytail out of the neckhole after me. "Well, you can't say they don't know us."

"True," Phil agrees as I walk into the lounge-room/kitchenette. He's placed the ice-cream on the table next to the fruit bowl – along with the note from Angelica – and he is now reading another, somewhat longer, piece of paper that had presumably been attached to an apple.

"Alright, what did they have to share so badly that they wanted to interrupt our wonderful honeymoon?"

"Dear Phil and Lor," he begins, sitting down at the table. I circle around the table and place my hands on his shoulders, reading over his shoulder but allowing him to read the note aloud anyway. "We wanted to wish you good luck on your marriage and help you get off to as pleasurable start as possible. So we've managed to get some reservations changed – putting you in a half-decent hotel, for a start, rather than that cheap tourist trap you were going to go to – and fixed you up with a slightly longer honeymoon than originally intended – an extra week, in the end. Dil will meet you tomorrow with the extra clothes and the new tickets – we raided your closets. Reggie's got you covered at the Caller, Lor, so don't worry, and your mother has agreed to come out of retirement to run the Java Lava in the interim, Phil. Go and have a good time, and consider this your present from all of us. Love from Susie, Angelica, Lil, Tish, Tino, Carver, Dil, Chuckie, Kimi and Reggie." He takes a deep breath. "P.S. Phil, before you say anything about how we shouldn't have wasted the money, after everything you did to help us when we were starting out…we know it wasn't money or anything, but the support you and Lor gave us was incredible. And this was just a way for us to say thank you. So enjoy it and don't worry about anything. We'll see you when you get back. Susie and Angelica."

"That's sweet of them," I comment, leaning down and kissing Phil on the crown of his head.

"Yeah," he agrees, reading the note again to himself before putting it back down on the table. "It was." He turns to face me and looks me up and down. "I didn't know you brought that shirt."

I tug on it a little, slightly self-conscious. "Of course I brought it," I tell him. "No-one got me lingerie to knock your socks off with, so this is pretty much it. I hope that's not a problem?"

He laughs. "Lor, you're my wife, standing there looking extremely dishevelled from an extremely pleasant evening of our first love-making as a married couple, wearing nothing but a long shirt – not to mention a long shirt associated with the one man I ever had the slightest crush on. If you were any sexier I'd need to lie down."

I roll my eyes. "Well, I'm all for you lying down," I tell him, taking his hand with one of mine and scooping the Phish Food ice-cream and spoons up with the other. "But I might need to take the shirt off. Wouldn't want to get ice-cream all over it."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"What is it, exactly?" Carver asks, rotating his gift from Tish in his hand. "I mean, my instinctive answer is I like it, but I'm really not sure what purpose it's meant to serve."

"It's a toy," Tish explains, pushing one of the pieces of metal on the complicated, rounded contraption in Carver's hand. He jumps slightly and puts it down quickly on the table as the entire toy begins moving, seemingly of its own accord. "You can change the pieces around, alter the shape it comes out as in the end, that kind of thing. I thought it might go well in your office. Very industrial design-y."

He smiles as the toy folds in on itself before blossoming out into a flower shape and finally sitting still. "Interesting. I like it."

"Good," Tish says, sitting back on the couch again, reclining next to Tino – who has turned slightly red from the proximity of her.

"Well, we've just got one left," Tino's mom announces, "and it would appear to be for Lor from Tino."

I smile at Tino in thanks as I accept the gift passed along the line to me. "Thanks, T." I unwrap it slowly – I'm sure everyone's aware that I'm not quite with it this afternoon, but by the same token, they're all aware why as well, so I don't think they're holding it against me.

I unwrap Tino's gift – a CD. And it's not Chum Bukkit.

"I wanted to get you something different this year," he tells me. "I know Phil has what seems like every CD in existence, but hopefully this is something new for you. I think you'll like it."

I turn the CD over in my hands – Augie March's _Moo, You Bloody Choir_ – and read the name of the first song.

"Thank you, Tino," I tell him. "It's perfect."

I get up and lean over to give him a hug on the couch. He squeezes me back in turn and smiles at me broadly. "I'm glad you like it. Have you heard of them before?"

I nod. "Once."

"Some writer friends of mine were big fans of theirs, we went to a concert of theirs in San Francisco last year. It was pretty incredible."

"I'll listen to it on the way home," I promise, marvelling at the craziness of the world.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching up and taking my hand where I stand over him.

I shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about some stuff."

He raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Do you need to talk?"

I try to formulate a response, but before I can, I hear a throat clear behind me, and I realise that we're still in the lounge room, with Carver, Tish and Mrs. Tonitini a captive audience.

"Maybe later," I tell him. "Thanks for the CD."

"You're welcome," he reaffirms, still looking at me slightly strangely, but smiling through the confusion. "Merry Christmas."

"And a joyous Solstice to you," I respond.

Tish chooses this moment to distract the situation somewhat by suggesting we retire to lunch – an idea upon which I jump like a shot. Awkward conversation with Tino can wait until we're good and fed.

8 - * - * - * - 8

I lay on my side, watching him. My hair came loose at some point in our most recent frenzy of activity and I have to raise my head a little to pull it out from under my shoulder, where every slight move was making me tug on it. He's lying, on his back, next to me, breathing in and out softly – he doesn't snore, he doesn't breathe heavily enough to make any noise at all, really – his torso and face gleaming in the moonlight. This is my husband, this is the person I will wake up next to every day until one of us dies. This is it for me.

He doesn't open his eyes before he speaks, and I nearly jump a foot in the air. "What are you staring at me for?"

"Just getting my kicks," I tell him. "You're quite pretty, you know."

"I knew you only married me for my body," he tells me, rolling over onto his side to face me. "Are you okay?"

I shrug. "I've just been thinking. About stuff. The past, and things."

"Don't get too fixated on the past," he tells me. "We're meant to be doing this whole 'looking into the future' thing, I thought."

"Nothing wrong with remembering the past," I point out. "I was just thinking about college."

"Can't believe it's nearly been…wow, three years, since we graduated."

"It's only been two years and…well, yeah, I guess eight or nine months, huh?" I bask in that thought for a second. "Braid my hair?"

He groans as he rises up to sit on the bed, but nods and reaches for the lamp, letting his neck crick before pulling me closer so he can braid my hair as requested. "One day you're going to have to learn to do this yourself," he tells me.

"Why? I'm always going to have you to do it for me now. It's why I married you."

"I thought it was for my body?" he sounds hurt.

"Just let you think that," I tell him as he takes separate sections of my hair. "You never told me why you learnt to do this, anyway."

"It was a trade off," he tells me. "I got to watch the hockey instead of studying if Kimi got to give me a makeover. It seemed like a good trade at the time."

"Are there photos of this?" I ask.

"For the amount I paid, there better not be," he says.

I laugh at that, and we sit in silence for a moment as he fixes my hair. Since I started keeping my hair long – about four years ago now, I realise – he's always been the one that did this for me. It never seemed weird, even when we were friends – it was just something he did for me, because we were friends. The idea of learning to do it myself never crossed my mind. On the few occasions when he couldn't – or wouldn't – do it, I would just tie it back.

"Do you not want to do this any more?"

He stops, mid-movement. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, does this bother you, me getting you to do this? Should I learn how because there might be a day when you won't do it any more?"

He resumes his task, albeit somewhat slower than before. "Are you worried I'm going to leave you or something?"

"No," I tell him. "We just got married, for crying out loud. But…well, it is something I might worry about. What if, some day, you want me to have short hair again, or get just plain sick of braiding my hair for me – or cleaning it out of the drain, or whatever. What if you want me to change?"

He sighs. "You're incredibly insecure, you know."

"I know."

"I could care less if your hair is long, short, medium length or gone altogether. I mean, I like it long, don't get me wrong – and I like doing this for you. It's a nice little moment of intimacy and closeness that's very much just ours, you know? But you're my wife and I would love you no matter what your hair looked like. I just think you should learn how to do it because it would be a useful skill for you to have in your repertoire. For example, if we have a daughter someday, do you really want her to go to school any tell everyone her Daddy braided her hair for her?"

I chuckle. "Might be interesting."

He reaches over to the bedside table and picks up a tie from where it was discarded during our love making before. "There you go."

"Thank you," I tell him, turning to kiss him softly. "This is really forever, isn't it?"

"It really is," he says. "I'm not letting you go."

"No, you never would."

8 - * - * - * - 8

"Hey."

I turn to face Tino from where I sit at the kitchen table. "Hey, T."

"How's it going?" he asks, crossing to the fridge and pulling out a tall pitcher of cordial.

"About as well as can be expected," I tell him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I chuckle. Despite what Tish said, to be honest, the last person I can see me talking to about this is Tino. "I don't know how much you'd want to know about this, Tino."

"Try me," he suggests.

I shrug. "Alright. Phil and I…kind of got together last night."

He nods. "And?"

I raise an eyebrow. "And…you're not shocked, hurt, or anything by this news?"

He shrugs in return. "Should I be? I mean, Lor, we broke up…six, eight months ago. I know that you were never with him when we were together, and therefore it's really nothing for me to have an opinion on if you choose to be with him now. Did you want me to be upset?"

"No, of course not," I tell him. "I know, you and I are in the past. It's just…I'm confused, Tino."

"What are you confused about?" he asks, bringing the pitcher and two glasses to the kitchen table, pouring us out the drinks.

"A lot of things. I'm scared of what's happening with me and Phil. I'm scared of what happened with me and you, and the ramifications that has for me and relationships. I'm scared of what happens to everybody's relationships, I guess."

"You should only be worried about your own relationships, Lor, because they're the only ones that mean anything to you. I mean, look at my parents relationship. Or hell, my Mom's relationship with Dixon. I could look at her and her track record, and say, hey, love stinks. But I don't like to do that – I like to see that as being part of her life, and my relationships are part of mine, and what happened to her doesn't have to happen to me."

"What about what's happened to _you_ in the past?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I'm worried about, with regards to Phil, is the idea that we're going to turn out like…well, that we're going to become like you and I. Tino, you were so much to me. You _meant_ so much to me. You were a bright spark in my life all the way through high school – and when we were together, for most of the time, you were a wonderful boyfriend. But when we broke up, I lost that. I lost the boyfriend part, which was sad, but necessary – but what was worse was that I lost you as friend – I know that we said we would stay friends, but I don't know how well it worked – because for months now you and I haven't been able to have a halfway decent conversation. We don't call each other on the phone and talk about our crappy days anymore, we don't exchange friendly little e-mails anymore, and all the time we're around each other, it's just plain awkward.

"And, don't take this the wrong way, but as much as you meant to me…Phil means to me to – perhaps more. That doesn't mean I loved you – or love you – any less than him, but it's different and it means so much to me, and the idea that I might lose him and everything he means to me is more than I can bear. If I have to live with that kind of awkwardness with him, if he's never going to be there again to talk to…then what am I going to do, Tino?

"I was so scared, going to college, away from all of you for the first time in…forever, really, I was so scared that I wasn't going to fit in, find any friends, that I was just going to want to come home and back to what was safe and secure and never really get out and start my life. But what happened was that I found Phil. And in this huge, scary place, starting this massive, frightening new life, he was there with me, for me. Tertiary education can make or break you but he wouldn't let it break me, and I wouldn't let it break him, and that friendship isn't just anything – it's everything. For me. When I got bad grades, he was there. When I got drunk, he held my hair back. When you and I broke up – " my breath catches in my throat, and it's the first pause I'm conscious of making in minutes – "he was there for me. He helped me get through everything. And I can't lose that. I can't risk it ending with him and me the way it ended for us. Because then who can I turn to?"

Tino takes a deep sip of his drink. "So, basically, Lor, you're scared."

I exhale. "Yes. That's it in a nutshell. I'm scared."

He reaches over and grasps my shoulder. "Lor, I love you, you know. But you're an idiot."

I stare at him, too shocked and emotionally shattered from my recent outpouring to be amused or even bemused. "What?"

"You're so…worried, about all these possibilities, you're looking so far off into the future at this idea of what might happen in a worst case scenario. Lor, I can't believe that _I'm _about to say this, to _you _of all people, but…"

I'm on tenterhooks, "What?"

"Stop thinking things through so much. Live in the moment, Lor."

My world comes crashing to a screeching halt.

"You're so worried about everything going wrong in the future. What you've forgotten is what is here now. This is a man who loves you, who you love, who wants to share this incredible part of life with you. I know you're scared of the future, but…what if it does work out? Hell, even what if it doesn't work out – do you really want to deny yourself the chance to have this shot at an incredible relationship, no matter what the outcome?"

I'm still pretty dumbstruck by _Tino_ telling me to be _more impulsive_, and I can't quite bring myself to answer.

"And…I know things have been kind of strained, between us, lately, but…do you realise that you just completely opened up to _me_ about a major problem you're having in your personal life?"

Huh. I hadn't noticed.

"I know that we've still got a ways to go, but…we'll get there, Lor. We'll be whole again. Well, as whole as we were before, anyway. And one part of that is moving on. Putting the past in the past and finding…what's out there for us next."

This shakes me from my stupor slightly. "Does this have anything to do with house decorating?"

He blushes slightly. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

I laugh a little at the picture he presents of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I think she'd be good for you, you know."

He shrugs. "We're just friends. Not saying that…well, given enough time, and closeness, and…maybe given a chance – "

"Take my word for it," I tell him. "Make a chance."

He nods. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you going to take a chance?"

I take a sip of the drink he poured for me. This morning I woke up with Phil by my side, and it seems like a lifetime ago. This morning I came tearing into town, torn by indecision on where I wanted my relationship with Phil to go. But now I know that it's too late to go back – we've crossed some kind of line. I guess the question is am I able to risk being hurt, to risk losing him as a friend, even temporarily, somewhere down the line, in order to take this shot, to try to be something…else, share something with him that I might never get to share with anyone else?

There's a knock at the door.

Tino rises. "I wonder who that could be?"

I get up, somewhat numbly, and follow him out into the entryway, where Tish is coming from the lounge to answer the door, but she backs away as Tino comes up first. He pulls the door open, and over his shoulder, I see Phil – standing there, clad in his finest shirt and slacks, his favourite boots and, for some reason, a tall, black top-hat.

He sees me over Tino's shoulder and Tino is instantly moving out of the way, ushering a reluctant Tish back into the lounge-room. I step forward into the space that Tino has vacated, facing Phil up close for the first time in what seems like so long.

"Hey," I say, unable to come up with any better words.

"Hey," he responds, reaching out and grabbing the doorframe with one hand. "How're you?"

I sigh. "To be honest with you, I don't know."

"Me neither," he says, letting out a strong exhalation and looking at the floor. "I've been talking a lot today. Doing a lot of talking to people, to be honest with you. And everyone seems to keep saying something to me – well, nearly everyone, anyway. 'If you love something, let it go, and if it's truly yours it'll come back to you. If you love somebody, you should be happy with their choice – no matter what – because you love them enough to let them go."

He raises his eyes and looks at me, straight on. Here's the part where he tells me he'll respect my decision, that he's going to let me go to make up my mind – I didn't fool him for a second this morning when I told him I would come back – he knew I was running away to think.

"Well," he says, "it's all complete and utter bullshit."

For the second time in twenty minutes, I'm struck speechless.

"If you love something, you shouldn't let it go, you should hold it to you, because you know that it's right. If you love somebody, really, and you know they love you, then you know what will make them happiest is being with you, because no-one will ever love them like you do.

"I know that you're scared of what could happen and you're scared about things changing between us, but things changed between us a long time ago, and we just took so long to admit it. I'm not going to tell you that we're destined to be together forever because I'd be lying through my teeth. But I know that you are more perfect for me than anyone I've ever met and what we have is something so special that we can't pass it up because there's a chance it won't work out. And I know you said you'd come back to me, but I also know how scared you were, and I couldn't bare to let you go on not knowing that I love you so much that hell, _I'm _scared about us not working out, because I don't know how I'll go on if I lose you, but that I want us to be together too much not to try."

He seems to have run out of words at this point, and we just stare at each other for a moment, before I finally find my voice. "You're wearing a top hat."

He stares at me in disbelief before reaching up and pulling the hat off his head.

"I love you," I tell him. "And when I told you this morning that I was going to come back to you I was…I wasn't lying, but I was scared and I wasn't sure what exactly I was going to come back and do. Up until about ten minutes ago, I still didn't have any idea."

"Do you know now?"

I nod, stepping down onto the front step. "Yes. I do."

I kiss him.

We break apart for air some time later. "Thank god," he whispers. "I was scared."

"So was I," I admit. "But no more being scared from here on, right? Because that's what we've always done for each other. We take the big, scary life-changing experiences, and we help each other through them. So that's what we're going to do. Right?"

"Right," he agrees.

I kiss him again.

This time when we break apart I see Kimi over his shoulder, leaning on the car. "Hey," I call to her, waving her over before slapping Phil on the shoulder. "You didn't say you'd brought anyone? How long were you just going to leave her standing there?"

He looks at me, once again, in disbelief. "I was getting there! There were things that needed to be said."

I shake my head at him, but before I can retort Kimi has joined us. "So, have you guys got everything sorted?"

I nod, not releasing Phil from my arms. "I think so."

"Good," she says. "In that case, I better get heading back home. They'll be expecting me for dinner."

"Oh no you don't," I tell her, grabbing her by the shoulder with my free hand. "Come on in and share some Christmas with us."

"Yeah, come in," a voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see Tish and Tino standing there, Tish smiling brightly. "It's good to see you again, Kim."

"You too, Tish," Kimi says, stepping past us and wrapping Tish up in a hug. "Happy Chanukah."

"Merry Christmas," she returns.

"You two know each other?" I ask. "Since when?"

"Oh, not long," Kimi says, before turning to Tino. "Hey, T. How're things holding up in Oakland?"

"Boring without you, Finster," he says. "Hope New York is panning out."

"Better by the day," she agrees. "Sure there won't be any objections to me coming in?"

"No, no," Tino says. "The more the merrier. Besides, you can meet Carver."

The three of them wander in to the house, trading stories of decorating houses and living in New York and how Christmas Day has been for everyone. I turn to Phil, who looks stunned at this turn of events. "So, your friends and my friends are becoming friends. Who would have thought it?"

"As long as they don't trade blackmail material on us, I'm cool with it," I declare, wrapping an arm back around his shoulders. "Come in?"

He nods. "Yes, please."

I kiss him softly. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"It's just Christmas. I think I'm prepared."

"I mean…everything."

He smiles at me. "Ready and waiting."

8 - * - * - * 8

_**Epilogue**_

There's something special about sleeping next to someone. Really sleeping next to someone. I remember the first time I deliberately…slept, next to him. It was a few days after Christmas, December 30th, actually. We'd been flying on this incredible high for a few days – I doubt we did anything for a few days after getting back from Bahia Bay but talk and have sex – lots of sex. Lots of talking. On the 30th, we sat up after eating dinner - I was watching movies, he was painting, we were talking. It got really late and, to be honest, it wasn't like either of had slept much over the last few days. So the next think I know I was being shaken awake on the couch, where I had finally succumbed. Phil was standing over me, a smile on his face. "Come on," he said. "Let's go to bed."

I got up and stretched, watching as he yawned and stretched a bit himself, before trudging off to his room, obviously pretty tired himself.

It was then that I paused, uncertain.

We had shared a bed every night since Christmas Eve, but always in the aftermath of sex, naked and curled around each other. Tonight there did not seem to be much possibility of that, as we were both practically walking unconscious. Did this mean we were not going to sleep together? Should I stay in my own bed tonight, or was he expecting me in his? I had only once slept with someone without making love first – the one time when Tino and I were fighting. I guess it's not so surprising, really, but I'm a college student, with only one longer-term relationship, and that long distance. How did a non-long-distance mature relationship work? Were we going to sleep next to each other? Should I get my pyjamas, or should I just go in and sleep naked? Do I need to bring my own pillow?

He stepped back out of his room, dressed in his favourite pair of long sweatpants and an incredibly worn-looking, over-large Calgary Flames supporters top, so old as to be faded a dull orange with a badly peeled 14 on the sleeve. He observed my paused body with a quirked eyebrow. "Quicksand?"

This jolted me back to life, and I turned to stare at him. "Huh?"

"Did you stand in a patch of quicksand?" he asked, still watching me with what was quite clearly amusement. "Do you want me to throw you a vine?"

I realised instantly how ridiculous I must look, standing there in the hall seemingly without purpose. "A rope would probably be better," I suggested, trying very hard to act like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

He smiled at me, a genuine, loving smile of the kind I'd become so used to over the time I'd known him but that now meant something else entirely. My stomach did a little kick-thing. "I don't think we've got any rope at the moment."

"But we would be okay for a vine?" I asked, deciding playing along is easing my nerves somewhat. _This _is something I'm used to, something I can deal with.

"Lousy with the damn things," he tells me, crossing the hall to the bathroom but walking quite wide of where I'm trapped in the quicksand. "Well, if you ever get yourself unstuck, do come to bed."

I sigh and nod. Right. Come to bed. _His_, I think. But definitely bed.

I finally walked into my room, very conscious of my breathing. I'd barely been in here for days, and it shows – the place was neater than I've ever known it. I pull my one clean set of pyjama-like-clothes out of the drawers and get changed, slowly, still amazingly aware of everything I'm doing and how significant it might turn out to be. I've got to think about this less, forget about it, just…be. I am going to bed. Just…to bed. Phil's bed.

One thing at a time.

Our bed?

One thing at a time.

I cross quickly from my room to the bathroom and find him still in there, extracting his contacts with care and trying not to wince or poke himself in the eye. He smiles at me in the mirror before kissing me softly on the forehead as he leaves the room.

I go through the motions of brushing my teeth and flossing and letting my hair loose, brushing it a little in what is becoming an increasingly blatant stall for time. Finally I set the brush down and sigh, staring myself down in the mirror. "Alright, McQuarrie. You're going to go in there, you're going to lie down, and you're going to sleep. You have turned every single step of this relationship into a massive, dramatic production, and you're not going to let this become another one. You're going to knock it off. You're just going to go to sleep. Next to your boyfriend. Now _get over it_."

I left the bathroom and returned to his doorway, taking a deep breath before slipping inside, as if I'm trying to escape from something. He was sitting up in bed, reading glasses on, trying to slog his way through a book he got from someone for Christmas. He looks up as I enter the room, slowly walking, one very deliberate step at a time, across the floor.

"Are you alright?" he asks as I finally reach the bed.

I nod. "Yes. I think so." Focus on anything but pulling the covers back and lying down next to him. Anything at all. "I don't think I've ever seen you in that shirt before."

He raises an eyebrow at the topic of conversation, but lets me steer it there. "I picked it up when I went home for Christmas. I've had it for years."

"It shows," I tell him. "It looks very comfortable."

And then, I'm lying there, next to him, in his bed.

"It is. My Mom got it for me. Took me and Lil to a Kings/Flames game when we were, like, five – she was encouraging us to experience all sports, to get a taste for them, find out what we liked. I knew from the moment I saw it that I loved hockey, but especially, I wanted to be exactly one person out on the ice – Theoren Fleury. Hence the number 14 on the shirt. She was a bit miffed – she wanted me to be a Kings fan, so we could go to the local games, but no – I was a Calgary fan, from that moment on. Anyway, when I outgrew that one, I made her get me another – and then another – even though he hasn't been on the team for years and years, I still have to have his number on it."

I nod. "So that's where the craziness began."

"Hey, you don't here me criticising you for watching _football_. Talk about craziness."

"Actually, I do hear you do that. A lot."

He looked at me over his glasses. "Well, no-one's perfect." He yawned widely. "This book is very, very boring and I'm going to vote three pages as being completely satisfactory for tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," I told him, nodding slowly. Alright. One step at a time.

He reached over to his bedside table, placing his book and his glasses on top of it before turning off the lamp. "Good night, Lor," he said, kissing me softly.

I pressed back in return. "Good night."

We lay there in silence, undisturbed, very separate. I'm not sure if I'm on the right side of the bed. I normally lay so sprawled across my own bed that I don't know what side of the bed I would nominally sleep on. So I lay very still, trying not to encroach too much on his side, where he seems comfortable.

"Lor?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you seem…distant. Literally."

I sighed. "I'm not exactly used to this."

"We've been doing it for nearly a week now," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," I conceded, rolling onto my side to face him. "But it's different. The last few nights we've just…fallen asleep, together, after…well, you know. But this is just…sleeping. Together. It's something different. It's something more…intimate, somehow."

"You're putting a lot of pressure on what is usually a fairly relaxing activity."

"Shut up," I suggested, reaching out and shoving him on the shoulder, lightly.

I let my hand linger, rubbing gently against the shoulder of his shirt.

"You just have to find a way to be…comfortable, I guess," he told me. "Don't think about it. Just…be comfortable. And sleep."

My finger traced random patterns on the fabric of the shirt. The contact is nice. "I do like this shirt."

He opened an eye and peered at me in the darkness. "I don't like the sounds of that. This is _my_ shirt."

"Did I say I was going to do anything to it?"

"No, but that's the same tone of voice that you got when eying off my piece of Christmas cake at Tino's."

I shuffle closer to him, tucking my head into the crook of his neck. "I think it would make me comfortable."

He exhaled slowly. I felt it on top of my head, but it wasn't annoying. It was somehow soothing, knowing he was there and that close. Not that there could be any confusion about that – he was everywhere in this tiny little two-person world we were sharing.

"Well, we'll see how you go getting it away," he suggested, wrapping an arm around me. I let my other arm fall across his chest, possessively wrapping myself around the shirt. And him. "For now, good night."

"Good night," I echoed.

When you've spent as long sleeping next to someone as I have to Phil, you become very conscious of when they're not there. About seven months into our relationship, he went to an art fair in Boston for a few days and I found it incredibly difficult to sleep alone again. So I'm not surprised to discover the reason I've woken up at 5am is because he's not on his side of the bed – he's not in the bed at all.

"Phil?"

There's a momentary silence, before a voice calls out, "I'm in the other room."

I rise up from the bed and pad softly into the lounge room, where he's sitting, legs tucked under himself on the couch, watching infomercials on TV. He looks up at me apologetically as I walk in. "Sorry, Lor. Flying makes me nervous."

"We don't fly until four this afternoon," I point out. "And we're at a hotel near the airport to make sure it's easy to get there."

"I know," he says. "It's not rational."

"You're nuts," I tell him, sitting on the sofa next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. "What are we buying this fine, still-dark-out-morning?"

"It's some kind of slow cooker," he tells me, pointing out something that is now happening on the screen. "You see how the kid is getting some soup? That soup's been there, for five hours – not overcooked, but it's _still piping hot_."

"Oooh." I coo appreciatively.

Twelve hours into my married life, and I'm sitting with my new husband on a hotel couch watching the Home Shopping Channel and discussing slow cookers. It's not exactly a fairy-tale beginning to a marriage, but I can think of worse things to do with the rest of my life.

Because, no matter what we're doing – going on our honeymoon, braiding my hair, watching infomercials, dancing, or sleeping, or anything – it's all a part of stuff we do together from here on out, and with that criteria, I think I'll do just about anything.

"Want to see what they're selling on Danoz?" he asks.

"Of course," I tell him, kissing him on the cheek and nudging him until he raises his arm, allowing myself to tuck in under it. "Just wait, there's more…"

_**8 - * - * - * - 8**_

_**The End**_

_**8 - * - * - * - 8**_

_**Alright, the ending came to me very late at night and is kind of weird, but here's why: **_**Tertiary**_** is ultimately about two people who go through something together and come out the other side – together. The entire story is about them doing things together, helping each other through every bit of life and sharing life with each other, in ways that only Phil and Lor know how. And I wanted to show them not just doing big stuff together, but it's doing little things together that really make a relationship work. My favourite chapter of this story is Chapter 12 – the conversation the pair of them share on the couch is one of my proudest moments in fanfic.**_

_**In regards to **_**Tertiary**_**, there are a few elements to clear up. First: some thanks: everyone who reviewed any of it at all – I can't name everyone, obviously, but I'd especially like to thank for their support **_**Acosta, Brooke Summer Valentine, Ceig**_** and **_**Fletty**_**, who stuck with me for years, and everyone who came to this fic as I brought it home very belatedly.**_

_**Secondly: music. Phil in this fic is a massive music fan, because I thought he would be considering where I took his character. Phil in the Road series was a teacher – to try something different this time, I decided to take Phil down the road of "What if he'd fallen in with the art crowd at high school?" I figured he would have been a painter, a creative and occasionally frustrated soul. The 'arty' people at High School also have a tendency to be massive music snobs. I've raided and plumbed the depths of not just my own music collection, but countless other people's as well, and I thank them for their patience and recommendations. Twelve of the key songs from the fic can be found in the Tertiary soundtrack playlist over at Youtube. Other than those songs, though, I'd also like to note the influence of **_**The Dirty Three**_**, who served essentially as a 'score' for this fic (especially the **_**She Has No Strings Apollo**_** and **_**Ocean Songs**_** albums), and the albums **_**Bat out of Hell (Meat Loaf)**_**, **_**No More Shall We Part (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds) **_**and **_**Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd) **_**which have all at different times been vital to my continuing writing.**_

_**Thirdly: time. I began this fic in early-mid 2006, at an Internet café on the beach of Woy Woy. The original concept I had was a fic where Arnold, Phil and Tino met at an interschool sports carnival and became friends, and that evolved into the fic we now know as **_**Tertiary**_** (I would like to point out that **_**Tertiary**_** was only ever meant to be a temporary title, but it has very much stuck). The fic as completed here draws on every bit of influence I came into over the last four years. I think if I had finished this fic four years ago, it wouldn't have been nearly as good as it is now, so I'm happy to have traded off endless delays for a better product in the end.**_

_**Fourthly: the follow-up. Well, several follow-ups, actually. I'm really still enjoying exploring these characterisations, and Lord Malachite and I will be producing a follow up series, entitled **_**From Here On**_**, a sit-com inspired series, which I hope we will have some elements of to share with you all in the near future. As well as that, there are several back-stories we plan to explore (Tish's, Susie's, Phil's (to an extent) and others), and I hope you enjoy them as well.**_

_**Which really brings me to, last, but certainly not least, Lord Malachite. I originally described this fic as originally vaguely planned (and then called **_**Up and Down and Back Again**_**) to Lord Malachite in an e-mail long before I ever published a word of it. The fact that he has stuck with me through four years of false starts and slow progress – essentially, actually, going up and down and back again with me – and is still happy to work with me on the sequel speaks wonders for his fortitude and dedication to what, at times, must have seemed like a lost cause. He has improved this fic in a million little ways – some tweaked dialogue here, some continuity fixes there, talking me out of some bad ideas and coming up with some great ideas himself – and I can't thank him enough for everything he did for me.**_

_**I hope you've enjoyed this story. One last time, do please review. I do love the feedback, it makes me strive to be a better writer.**_

**Keep your eyes out for  
**_** From Here On **_**– written by Lord Malachite and Acepilot  
Coming soon**


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